.^ 


m 


LIBRARY 

VWmSWf  OF  CALIFORNIA 

RIVERSIDE 


THE  BIOGRAPHICAL    EDITION 


THE    WORKS    OF 

WILLIAM  MAKEPEACE  THACKERAY 

WITH  BIOGRAPHICAL  INTRODUCTIONS  BY 
HIS  DAUGHTER,  ANNE  RITCHIE 


IN  THIRTEEN  VOLUMES 

Volume  III. 

THE    MEMOIRS    OF 

MR.  CHARLES  J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

THE  GREAT  HOGGARTY  DIAMOND,  Etc 


^S32. 


/'■■'JU^.At.  Pf'.-i^^^i^  fU 


^L  :'f'l/i.^ltu~£:Z^.    Ot 


'[  ME    MEMOIRS     OF 

MR.  CHARLES  J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

TflE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

AND  THE 

GREAT    HOGGARTV    DIAMOND 
COX'S   DL\RY,  Etc. 

BY 

WILLIAM  MAKEPEACE  THACKERAY 


WJTJJ  ILLUSTRATIONS  BY  GEORGE    CRUIKSHANK 
AND  A  PORTRAIT  OF  THE  A  UTIIOR 


HARPER    &    BR OTHER. S    PUBLISHERS 

NEW  YORK  AND   LONDON 

1900 


p' 


i'i 


THE  BIOGRAPHICAL  EDITION  OF 

W.  M.  THACKERAY'S  COMPLETE  WORKS 

Edited   by    Mrs.   Annk    Thackeray    RiTCHlE 


The  volutnes  are  issued  asj  .ir  as  possible  in  order  of  original  publication 


VANITY  FAIR 
PENDENNIS 

YELLOWPLUSH   PAPERS,  Etc. 
BARRY  LYNDON,  Etc. 
SKETCH   BOOKS 
(S.  CONTRIBUTIONS   TO 
"  PUNCH,"  Etc 


7.  HENRY  ESMOND,  Etc. 

8.  IHK  NEWCOMES 

9.  CHRISTMAS  BOOKS,  Etc 

10.  THE  VIRGINIANS 

11.  PHILIP,  Etc. 

12.  DENIS  DUVAL,  Etc 

13.  MISCELLANIES 


Illustrated.     Crown  8vo,  Cloth,  Ornamental,  Uncut  Edges  and  Gilt  Tops, 
$1  7S  per  volume 


HARPER    &    BROTHERS,   PUBLISHERS, 
NEW     YORK     AND     LONDON 


Copyright,  1898,  by  Harpbr  &  Bbothbrs 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 
INTRODUCTION  .  .  ,  ,  .  .  ,  .XV 

THE   HISTORY   OF   SAMUEL   TITMARSH    AND 
THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND 

CHAP. 

I.       GIVES      AN      ACCOUNT      OF     OUR     VILLAGE      AND     THE 

FIRST    GLIMPSE    OF   THE   DIAMOND        ...  3 

II.       TELLS      HOW      THE      DIAMOND      IS      BROUGHT      UP     TO 

LONDON,     AND     PRODUCES     WONDERFUL     EFFECTS 

BOTH    IN    THE    CITY    AND    AT    THE    WEST    END        .  9 

III.  HOW    THE    POSSESSOR     OF    THE    DIAMOND    IS    WHISKED 

INTO     A     MAGNIFICENT     CHARIOT,    AND    HAS    YET 
FURTHER    GOOD    LUCK  .  .  .  .  .19 

IV.  HOW      THE       HAPPY       DIAMOND  -  WEARER      DINES      AT 

PENTONVILLE   .......  29 

V.       HOW     THE     DIAMOND     INTRODUCES     HIM     TO     A     STILL 

MORE    FASHIONABLE    PLACE  ....  33 

VI.       OF      THE      WEST      DIDDLESEX      ASSOCIATION,      AND      OF 

THE    EFFECT    THE    DIAMOND    HAD    THERE      .  .  39 

VII.       HOW      SAMUEL      TITMARSH      REACHED      THE      HIGHEST 
POINT    OF    PROSPERITY         ..... 

VIII.       RELATES   THE  HAPPIEST   DAY    OF    SAMUEL   TITMARSH's 
LIFE  ........ 

IX.       BRINGS    BACK    SAM,   HIS    WIFE,    AUNT,    AND    DIAMOND, 
TO    LONDON        


48 
57 
63 


VUl 


CONTENTS 


CHAP. 
X. 

XI. 


XII. 


XIII. 


OF  SAMS  PRIVATE  AFFAIRS,  ANT>  OF  THE  FIRM 
OF    BROUGH    AND    HOFF       ..... 

IX  WHICH  IT  APPEARS  THAT  A  MAN  MAY  POSSESS 
A  I>IAMOXD,  AND  YET  BE  VERY  HARD  PRESSED 
FOR   A    DINNER 

IN  WHICH  THE  HERO's  AUNT's  DIAMOND  MAKES 
ACQUAINTANCE   WITH    THE    HERO's    UNCLE 

IX  WHICH  IT  IS  SHOWN  THAT  A  COOI>  WIFE  IS 
THE  BEST  DIAMOND  A  MAN  CAN  WEAR  IN 
HIS    BOSOM  .  .  ... 


PAGE 

95 

lOG 


I. 

II. 

III. 

IV. 
V. 

VI. 

VH. 

VIM. 

I\. 


THE   TTvEMEXDOrS    ADVENTrilES   OF 
MAJOli    GAHAGAN 

"  TRUTH    IS    STRANGE,    STRANGER   THAN    FICTION  " 

ALLYGHUR    AND    LASWAREE        .... 

A    PEEP    INTO    SPAIN — ACCOUNT    OF    THE    ORIGIN    AND 

SERVICES    OF    THE    AHMEDNUGGAR    IRREGULAR.s 
THE    INDIAN    CAMP — THE    SORTIE    FKO.M    THE    FORT 


THE    ISSUE    OF    MY    INTERVIEW 

FAMINE    IN    THE    (JARKI.^ON 

THE    ESCAPE    . 

THE   CAPTIVE 

SURPRISE    OF    FUTTYGHUn 


WITH    MY    AVIFE 


119 
131 

140 

153 

ir.i 

1G5 
171 
174 
180 


COX'S    DlAllY 

JANUARY THE    ANNOUNCEMENT 

FEBRUARY FIRST    ROUT    .... 

MARCH — A    DAY    WITH    THE    SURREY    HOUNDS 
APRIL — THE    FINISHING    TOUCH  . 


189 
193 

197 
201 


CONTENTS 


IX 


MAY — A    NEW    DROP-SCENE    AT    THE    OPERA 
JUNE — STRIKING    A    BALANCE      .... 
.JULY — DOWN    AT    BEULAH  .... 

AUGUST — A    TOURNAMENT  .... 

SEPTEMBER OVER-BOARDED    AND    UNDER-LODGED 

OCTOBER — NOTICE    TO    QUIT 
NOVEMBER  —  LAW    LIFE    ASSURANCE     . 
DECEMBER — FAMILY    BUSTLE        .... 


PAGE 

205 
209 
213 
217 
221 
225 
229 
233 


THE    MEMOIRS   OF   MR.  C.  J.  YELLOWPLUSH 
MISS  shum's  husband 

THE    AMOURS    OF   MR.    DEUCEACE  : — 

DIMONl)    CUT    DIMOXn  ...... 

FORING    PARTS  ........ 


MR.    DEUCEACE    AT    PARIS  : 

CHAP. 

I.       THE    TWO    BUNDLES    OF    HAY 

II.       "  HONOUR    THY    FATHER  " 


III.       MINEWVRING 


IV. 


HITTING    THE    NALE    ON    THE 


V.  THE    GRIFFIN  S    CLAWS 

VI.  THE    JEWEL      . 

VII.  THE    CONSCiUINSIES    . 

VIII.  THE    END    OF    MR.    DEUCEACE's 

IX.  THE    MARRIAGE 

X.  THE    HONEYMOON       .      '       . 

MR.    YELLOWPLUSh's    AJEW 

SKIMMINGS    FROM    "THE    DAIRY    OF    GEORGE    IV." 

EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI 


237 

256 
270 


•         •         •         « 

279 

• 

284 

•       ■       •       • 

290 

HEDD  " 

297 

•     .     .     . 

300 

304 

. 

311 

HISTORY  —  LIMBO 

315 

•           •           •           • 

329 

. 

331 

.     .     •     > 

338 

E  IV." 

348 

360 

VUl 


CONTENTS 


CHAP.  PAGK 

X.     OF    sam's    private    affairs,    and    of    the    firm 

OF    BROUGH    AND    HOFF       .....  75 

XI.       IN    WHICH    IT    APPEARS    THAT    A    MAN    MAY    POSSESS 
A    DIAMOND,    AND    YET    BE    VERY    HARD    PRESSED 
FOR   A    DINNER  ......  86 

XII.       IN      WHICH      THE     HERo's'    AUNT's     DIAMOND      MAKES 

ACQUAINTANCE   WITH    THE    HERO's    UNCLE  .  95 

XIII.  IN  WHICH  IT  IS  SHOWN  THAT  A  GOOD  WIFE  IS 
THE  BEST  DIAMOND  A  MAN  CAN  WEAR  IN 
HIS    BOSOM         .  .  .  .  .  ...       106 


I. 

II. 

III. 


THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES  OF 
MAJOR  GAHAGAN 

"truth    IS    STRANGE,    STRANGER    THAN    FICTION" 
ALLYGHUR   AND    LASWAREE        .... 


A    PEEP    INTO    SPAIN — ACCOUNT    OF    THE    ORIGIN    AND 
SERVICES    OF    THE    AHMEDNUGGAR    IRREGULARS 

IV.       THE    INDIAN    CAMP THE    SORTIE    FROM    THE    FORT 

V.       THE    ISSUE    OF    MY    INTERVIEW '  WITH    MY    WIFE 
VI.       FAMINE    IN    THE    GARRISON         .... 

Vri.       THE    ESCAPE    ....... 

VIII.       THE    CAPTIVE  ...... 

IX.       SURPRISE    OF    FUTTYGHUR  .... 


119 

131 

UO 
153 
161 
165 
171 
174 
180 


COX'S   DIARY 

JANUARY THE    ANNOUNCEMENT 

FEBRUARY — FIRST    ROUT    .... 

MARCH A    DAY    WITH    THE    SURREY    HOUNDS 

APRIL — THE    FINISHING    TOUCH  . 


189 
193 

197 
201 


CONTENTS 


IX 


MAY — A    NEW    DROP-SCENE    AT    THE    OPERA 
JUNE — STRIKING    A    BALANCE      .... 
JULY — DOWN    AT    BEULAH  .... 

AUGUST — A    TOURNAMENT  .... 

SEPTEMBER OVER-BOARDED    AND    UNDER-LODGED 

OCTOBER — NOTICE    TO    QUIT  .... 

NOVEMBER — LAW    LIFE    ASSURANCE     . 
DECEMBER — FAMILY    BUSTLE        .... 


PAGE 

205 
209 
213 
217 
221 
225 
229 
233 


THE   MEMOIRS   OF   MR.  C.  J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

MISS    SHUM'S    HUSBAND       .  .    " 

THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.    DEUCEACE  : 

DIMOND    CUT    DIMOND            .             .             .             . 
FORING    PARTS 

MR.    DEUCEACE    AT    PARIS  : — 
CHAP. 

I.       THE    TWO    BUNDLES    OF    HAY 

IL  "  HONOUR   THY    FATHER  " 

III.  MINEWVRING  . 

IV.  "  HITTING    THE    NALE    ON    THE 
V.  THE    griffin's    CLAWS 

VL  THE  JEWEL      . 

VII.  THE  CONSQUINSIES    . 

VIII.  THE  J;ND    OF    MR.    DEUCEACE's 

IX.  THE  MARRIAGE 

X.  THE  HONEYMOON       .      '       . 

MR.    YELLOWPLUSH's    AJEW 

SKIMMINGS    FROM    "  THE    DAIRY    OF    GEORGE    IV. 

EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI 


237 

256 
270 


•         •         •         • 

279 

•       •        •       • 

284 

•         •         •         • 

290 

HEDD  " 

297 

•           •           •           • 

300 

■           •           •           • 

304 

■           •           •           ■ 

311 

HISTORY LIMBO 

315 

•           •           ■           • 

329 

•           •           •           • 

331 

•           •           "           • 

338 

E  IV." 

34S 

•         •          •         • 

360 

CONTENTS 


THE   DIARY   OF   C.  JEAMES   DE   LA   PLUCHE,    ESQ., 
WITH    HIS   LETTERS 


A    LUCKY    SPECULATOR 
THE    DIARY         .... 
JEAMES    ON   TIME    BARGINGS 
JEAMES    ON    THE    GAUGE    QUESTION 
MR.    JEAMES    AGAIN  . 


PAGI 

381 
387 
424 
426 
429 


A   LEGEND  OF   THE    RHINE 


CHAP. 

I. 

SIR   LUDWIG    OF    HOMBOURG       . 

II. 

THE    GODESBERGERS 

III. 

THE    FESTIVAL            .             .             .             , 

IV. 

THE   FLIGHT 

V. 

THE    traitor's    DOOM 

VI. 

THE    CONFESSION       .             .             .             . 

VII. 

THE   SENTENCE 

VIII. 

THE    CHILDE    OF    GODESBERG       . 

IX. 

THE    LADY    OF    WINDECK 

X. 

THE    BATTLE    OF    THE    BQ-WTVIEN 

XI. 

THE    MARTYR    OF    LOVK,     . 

XII. 

THE    CHAMPION          .             .             .             . 

XIII. 

THE    MARRIAGE 

435 
439 
444 
446 
448 
452 
455 
457 
465 
471 
476 
482 
488 


CHARACTER   SKETCHES 


CAPTAIN    ROOK    AND    Mil.    PIGEON 
THE    FASHIONABLE    AUTHORESS  . 
THE    ARTISTS     .... 


495 
511 

523 


CONTEXTS 


XI 


THE    FATAL   BOOTS 

JANUARY — THE    BIRTH    OF    THE    YEAR 
FEBRUARY— CUTTING    WEATHER 

MARCH SHOWERY     .... 

APRIL FOOLING  .... 

MAY RESTORATION    DAY  . 

JUNE — MARROWBONES    AND    CLEAVERS 

JULY SUMMARY    PROCEEDINGS 

AUGUST — DOGS    HAVE    THEIR    DAYS      . 

SEPTEMBER PLUCKING    A    GOOSE 

OCTOBER — MARS    AND    VENUS    IN    OPPOSITION 
NOVEMBER A    GENERAL    POST    DELIVERY     . 


DECEMBER- 


THE    WINTER    OF    OUR    DISCONTENT 


PAGE 
541 

545 
549 
553 
557 
561 
565 
569 
573 
577 
581 
585 


THE   BEDFORD-ROW   CONSPIRACY 

CHAP. 
I.       OF    THE     LOVES    OF    MR.     PERKINS    AND    MISS     GORGON, 

AND     OF     THE      TWO      GREAT      FACTIONS     IN     THE 

T01,ATJ    OF    OLDBOROUGH 591 

II.       SHOWS     HOW     THE     PLOT     BEGAN     TO     THICKEN     IN     OR 

ABOUT    BEDFORD    ROW  .  .  .  .  =       607 

IIL       BEHIND    THE    SCENES 619 


GOING    TO    SEE    A   MAN    HANGED 


633 


I 


LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 


PORTRAIT    OF    W.    M.    THACKERAY,     1832 


Frontispiece 


PAGE 

BLUE    FROCKCOAT      ........  XVi 

THACKERAY    AT    HARE    COURT,    TEMPLE        ....  Xni 

BUCKSTONE     .........  xviii 

KING      ..........  xviii 

MEGREEDY        .........  xix 

LORD    CHANCELLOR XXVii 

PEEPING    LADY .  Xxix 

GARRICK    CLUB    HEADS       .......  XXXii 

DOMESTIC    DREAMS                .......  XXXiii 

ATELIER             .........  XXxiv 

DE    LA    PLUCHE.       M.    A.    TITMARSH.       MAJOR    GAHAGAN          .  XXxlX 


COX'S   DIARY 

JANUARY — THE    ANNOUNCEMENT 

FEBRUARY FIRST    ROUT 

MARCH A    DAY    WITH    THE    SURREY    HOUNDS 

APRIL THE    FINISHING    TOUCH 

MAY A    NEW    DROP-SCENE    AT    THE    UPERA 

JUNE — STRIKING    A    BALANCE. 


To  face  page  190 
194 
198 
202 

20G 
210 


xiv  LIST    OF    ILLUSTRATIONS 

JULY — DOWN  AT  BEULAH       .         .         .  To  face  page     214 

AUGUST A    TOURNAMENT  .... 

SEPTEMBER — OVER-BOARDED  AND  UNDER-LODGED 

OCTOBER NOTICE    TO    QUIT        .... 

NOVEMBER LAW    LIFE    ASSURANCE 

DECEMBER — CHRISTMAS    BUSTLE 


218 

222 

220 

230 

232 

THE    FATAL    BOOTS 

JANUARY — THE    BIRTH    OF    THE    YEAR 

FEBRUARY CUTTING    WEATHER 

MARCH — SHOWERY 

APRIL FOOLING      .... 

MAY — RESTORATION    DAY 

JUNE — MARROWBONES    AND    CLEAVERS 

JULY SUMMARY    PROCEEDINGS 

AUGUST — DOGS    HAVE    THEIR    DAYS  . 
SEPTEMBER — PLUCKING    A    GOOSE 

OCTOBER MARS    AND    VENUS    IN    OPPOSITION 

NOVEMBER A    GENERAL    POST    DELIVERY 

DECEMBER "THE  WINTER  OK  OUR  DISCONTENT 


542 

546 

550 

554 

558 

562 

566 

570 

574 

578 

582 

586 

INTRODUCTION 


TO 


YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS 


AND 


HOGGARTY     DIAMOND,  etc. 

1831— 1837 

I. 


The  early  years  which  my  father  spent  in  London,  looking 
about  him,  trying  his  'prentice  hand  on  life,  coming  and  going 
with  his  friends,  were  those  in  which  he  saw  most  of  Edward 
FitzGerald,  Charles  and  Arthur  Bnller,  of  John  and  Henry 
Kemble,  all  of  whom  seem,  to  have  been  his  playfellows.  Al- 
fred and  Frederick  Tennyson,  and  John  Allen,  are  also  among 
those  who  are  constantly  mentioned  in  the  notes  and  the  letters 
of  that  time. 

These  young  knights  of  the  Mahogany  Tree  used  to  meet 
and  play  and  work  together,  or  sit  over  their  brandy-and-water 
discussing  men  and  books  and  morals,  speculating,  joking,  and 
contradicting  each  other — liking  fun  and  talk  and  wit  and  hu- 
man nature,  and  all  fanciful  and  noble  things.  Alfred  Tenny- 
son was  already  the  poet  laureate  of  this  little  court,  which  was 
roaming  about  London,  with  so  much  vigour  and  cheerful  mirth. 

They  all  went  their  own  ways.  They  heartily  admired  each 
other  (and  no  wonder),  and  they  encouraged  the  minor  graces 
as  well  as  the  major  virtues.  Among  other  things  they  seem 
to  have   greatly  admired  a  blue  frockcoat  of  FitzGerald's,  of 


XVI 


YELLOW  PLUSH    PAPERS 


which   he   himself  has   written   more  than   once  in  his  letters. 
"  It  looks  delightful  in  church,"  he  says, 

I  have  a  letter  addressed  to  Edward  .FitzGerald,  Esq.,  at 
Mrs.  Perry's,  Trumpington  Street,  Cambridge,  and  docketed 
'■'■  first  letter  from  W.  M.  T.  after  mrj  departure  from  London  in 
November  1831." 

"  I  don't  think  my  rooms  will  ever  appear  comfortable  again," 
says  the  letter.  "  Here  are  your  things  lying  in  the  exact  place 
you  left  tliem.  .  .  .  The  Kembles  have  called ;  J.  yesterday, 
Henry  to-day — he  is  a  dear  fellow,  and  we  talk  about  nothing 
but  you  and  the  theatre.  .  .  ."     Then  again  :  "John  Kemble 

stayed  with  me  till  five  o'clock,  vvlien  we 
set  forth  on  a  walk;  we  went  round  the 
Regent's  Park,  and  he  had  the  talk  to 
himself.  It  was  agreeable  enough  :  about 
his  Spanish  adventures,  and  his  friend 
'^-  General  Torrijo's  exploits.  He  has  asked 
me  to  his  house.  .  .  ,  Mrs.  Kemble  has 
returned,  leaving  her  daughter  at  Paris." 
This  was  at  the  time  my  father  sat 
every  day  in  Mr.  Taprell's  office  j)crched 
on  a  high  stool,  drawing  up  legal  docu- 
ments. Mr.  Taprell  was  a  special  pleader 
and  conveyancer,  and  it  would  be  curious 
to  come  across  a  legal  document  in  his 
pupil's  handwriting. 
Almost  a  year  before  this  time  my  grandparents  and  my 
father  had  come  to  the  conclusion  that  he  should  go  to  the  bar. 
He  himself  was  anxious  to  begin  work.  Writing  to  his  mother 
from  Germany,  January  25,  18;31,  he  says:  "I  do  believe, 
mother,  that  it  is  not  merely  an  appetite  for  novelty  which 
prompts  me,  but  really  a  desire  to  enter  a  profession  and  do 
my  duty  in  it.  I  am  nearly  twenty  years  old — at  that  time  my 
father  had  been  for  five  years  engaged  on  his.  I  am  fully  aware 
how  difficult  and  disagreeable  ray  task  must  be  for  the  first  four 
years,  but  I  have  an  end  in  view  and  an  independence  to  gain ', 
and  if  I  can  steadily  keep 'this  before  me,  I  shall  not,  I  trust, 
flinch  from  the  pursuit  of  them."  By  the  autumn  of  that  year 
the  young  student  was  established  in  the  Temple. 


BLUE  FROCKCOAT. 


INTRODUCTION 


xvu 


He  sent  Mr.  FitzGerald  a  picture  of  himself,  and  of  liis  stool 
and  of  No.  1  Hare  Court,  Temple,  and  one  of  the  lamp-post 
and  the  railings  outside.  The  drawing  given  here  is  from  a 
letter  home.  * 

"  W.  M.  T.  to  Major  Carmichael-Smyth. 

''December  18:51. 

"  I  go  pretty  regularly  to  my  pleader's,  and  sit  with  him  till 
past  five  ;  then  I  come  home  and  read  and  dine  till  about  nine  or 


THACKERAY    AT    HARE    COURT,   TEMPLE. 

past,  when  I  am  glad  enough  to  go  out  for  an  hour  and  look  at 
the  world.  As  for  the  theatre,  I  scarcely  go  there  more  than 
once  a  week,  which  is  moderate  indeed  for  me.  In  a  few  days 
come  the  Pantomimes  !     Plnzza  ! 

"  I  have  been  to  Cambridge,  where  I  stayed  four  days  feasting 
on  my  old  friends,  so  hearty  and  hospitable.  ...  I  could  have 
stayed  there  a  month  and  fed  on  each. 


XVlll 


YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS 


"  I  find  this  work  really  very  pleasant :  one's  day  is  agreeably 
occupied  ;  there  is  a  newspaper  and  a  fire  and  just  enough  to 
do.  Mr.  Taprell  has  plenty  of  business,  and  I  should  think 
would  be  glad  of  another  assistant,  whom  I  hope  to  provide  for 
him,  in  my  friend  Kemble,  with  whom  I  am  very  thick.  ...  I 
have  been  employed  on  a  long  pedigree  case,  and  find  myself 


BUCKSTONE. 


KING. 


very  tolerably  amused,  only  it  is  difiicult  to  read  dry  law-books 
and  to  attend  to  them.  I  sit  at  home  a  good  deal,  but  proceed 
very  slowly.  I  have  to  lay  out  nearly  £5  to-day  for  these  same 
ugly  books." 


A  diary  which  was  written  in  the  early  part  of  1832  brings 


INTRODUCTION 


XIX 


back  very  vividly  the  daily  life  of  that  time.  It  begins  with  a 
family  record. 

"■Monday,  April  2,  1832. — In  the  morning  William  Ritchie 
called — he  has  grown  a  very  fine  boy." 

Then  comes  a  description  of  going  to  see  Haydon's  pictures: 
"  Mr.  Haydon,  by  dint  of  telling  all  the  world  he  is  a  great 
painter,  has  made  them   believe  it.      The  '  Mock  Election '  is 


MKGREEnr. 


Queen  (Mrs.  Bulger).  Hamlet!  thou  liast  thy  father  mucli  offended. 

Hamlet  (Megreedy).  Madam,  thou  has  my  father  much  offended. 

Queen.  There's  the  least  taste  in  life  of  linen  hanging  out  behind.  i 

very  forced   and  bad,  '  Xenophon  '  so  so,  and  the  rest  of  the 
pictures  about  as  good  as  the  '  Mock  Election.'" 

"  Went  to  see  father  and  mother  at  Covent  Garden.  The 
opera  was  the  '  Barber  of  Seville.'  Miss  Inverarity  sang  charm- 
ingly, but  has  a  mouth  big  enough  to  sing  two  songs  at  once. 
Wilson  has  one  of  the  freshest  voices  I  ever  heard.     Wrote 


XX  YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS 

some  verses  for  Charlotte  Shakespeare,  which  are  not  quite  fin- 
ished." 

*'■' Sunday,  April  29. — Breakfasted  at  Bullers',  and  met  his 
brother  (Arthur  Buller),  a  very  nice  fellow,  and  very  well  read. 
Idled  about  all  day  till  dinner-time,  when  A.  Buller  and  King- 
lake  dined  with  me  at  the  Bedford.  At  night  went  canvassing 
for  Percy  and  Pteform ;  it  was  a  silly  prank,  but  has  shown  me 
how  easy  it  is  to  talk  men  over.  ...  I  wish  to  God  I  could  take 
advantage  of  my  time  and  opportunities  as  C.  Buller  has  done. 
It  is  very  well  to  possess  talents,  but  using  them  is  better  still. 
Just  as  I  had  written  my  criticism  on  Buller,  enter  D.,  who  tinds 
fault  with  him  for  the  very  things  which  I  thought  so  creditable. 
He  says  he  has  not  taken  advantage  of  his  opportunities.  To 
be  sure,  as  to  advancement,  society,  and  talent,  he  has  had 
greater  advantages  than  most  men.  Not  the  least  of  them  that 
Carlyle  was  his  tutor. 

"  Went  to  Chambers.  Dined  in  Hall;  afterwards  Kemble  and 
Hallam  sat  here  for  an  hour.  Read  an  article  in  Blackioood 
about  A.  Tennyson,  abusing  Hallam  for  his  essay  in  the  Eng- 
lishman. Read  the  Monthly,  which  is  cleverer  than  any  of  the 
others,  I  think.  Took  a  shilling's  worth  at  the  Strand  Theatre 
to  see  the  'Judgment  of  Paris,'  a  poor  thing  enough." 

It  was  about  this  time  that  he  went  to  see  Macready  in  the 
"  Merchant  of  London,"  "  a  good  play,  and  admirably  acted." 
The  drawing  here  given  belongs,  perhaps,  to  a  somewhat  later 
date,  but  it  is  evidently  a  sketch  of  a  young  Macready,  adapted 
to  a  jesting  story  by  the  youthful  chronicler. 

It  was  in  these  very  early  days  that  my  father  made  the  ac- 
quaintance of  Dr.  Maginn,  with  whom  he  bad  further  dealings.* 

*  Mr.  Blanchard  Jenold  describes  Father  Prout  in  Paris,  speaking  to  him 
of  this  time:  "Without  preface" — he  was  a  man  void  of  preface  in  speech 
(Mr.  Jerrold  writes),  and  like  Siebenkas,  advocate  of  the  poor,  he  laid  the 
et;g  of  his  act  or  deep  sayin^r,  without  any  nest  on  the  naked  rock — "  I  In- 
"  troduced  Thackeray  to  Maginii." — Tiie  Fatlier  laughed  as  the  vision  pass- 
ed before  him. — "  Thackeray  was  a  young  buck  in  those  days,  wanted  to 
"make  a  figure  in  literature,  la  belle  affaire!  So  he  tiiought  he  must  help 
"himself  to  a  magazine.  It  is  an  expensive  toy.  A  magazine  wanted  an 
"editor;  I  recommended  Billy  Maginn."  A  burst  of  sharp  laughter  fol- 
lowed this.  "  It  wasn't  so  easy  to  get  hoM  of  Master  Maginn  in  tiiose  times. 
"  However,  I  did  get  hold  of  him,  and  made  Thackeray's  proposition  then 


INTRODUCTION  xxi 

The  first  mention  of  him  is  in  the  diary  from  which  I  have 
been  quoting. 

"Wednesday,  May  2,  1832. — Dr.  Maginn  called  and  took  me 
to  the  Standard,  showing  me  the  mysteries  of  printing  and 
writing  leading  articles.  With  him  all  day  till  four.  Dined  at 
the  Sablonniere." 

Next  day  he  dines  with  Dr.  Maginn  at  the  King's  Head.  "  A 
dull  party  of  low  literary  men."  "  Wrote  yesterday  to  E.  F.  G. 
with  a  letter  as  from  Herrick.  Might  have  been  made  pretty, 
but  was  poor  enough.  How  can  a  man  know  his  own  capabili- 
ties? Not  by  reading,  by  which  one  acquires  thoughts  of  others, 
and  gives  one's  self  the  credit  of  them.  Bulwer  has  a  high 
reputation  for  talent,  and  yet  I  always  find  myself  competing 
with  him." 

Then  again,  a  little  further  on  :  "  Maginn  with  mc  all  the 
morning,  one  of  the  pleasantest  I  ever  passed.  Maginn  read 
Homer  to  me,  and  he  made  me  admire  it  as  I  had  never  done 
before ;  moreover  he  made  me  make  a  vow  to  read  some  Homer 
every  day,  which  vow  I  don't  know  whether  I  shall  keep.  His 
remarks  were  extraordinarily  intelligent  and  beautiful,  mingled 
with  much  learning,  a  great  deal  of  wit,  and  no  ordinary  poet- 
ical feeling.  .  .  .  Told  me  concerning  G.'s  roguery,  but  he  was 
not  angry  enough  at  it."  (This  last  sentence  is  very  character- 
istic of  ray  father.) 

Day  by  day  he  continues  to  chronicle  the  occupations  and 
amusements  of  the  moment : — 

"  Walked  out  with  Paget  through  Kensington  Gardens,  where 
we  strolled  about  and  lay  on  the  grass.  Lunched  at  the  Black 
Lion  at  Bayswatcr.  On  returning  home  found  half-a-dozen  men 
comfortably  settled  in  my  rooms,  to  which  were  presently  added 
as  many  more,  and  at  last  got  rid  of  them  and  went  to  bed  at 
eleven.  All  the  morning  at  Buller's,  drawing  caricatures.  Met 
Mrs.  Austin  there,  a  pretty,  pleasant  woman.  Found  that  C.  B. 
and  1  did  not  at  all  agree  about  poetry."     Elsewhere  he  writes: 

"and  tliere.     Before  Billy  Maginn  could  go  into  the  matter  he  must  have 

"£500 " 

Of  all  this  the  writer  knows  nothing,  but  she  gives  the  passage  as  it  is 
printed,  and  she  owes  the  quotation  to  the  kindness  of  Mr.  Loder  of  Wood- 
bridge. 


xxii  YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS 

"C.  B.  is  H  clever  fellow,  at  any  rate,  and  makes  money  by 
magazine  writing,  in  wliich  1  should  much  desire  to  follow  his 
example."  On  another  page  he  mentions  that  Kemble  has  been 
reading  him  some  very  beautiful  verses  of  Tennyson's.  The  music 
was  in  the  air — not  only  was  the  poet  come,  but  those  who  had 
ears  to  hear. 

The  diary  continues :  "  Supped  at  the  Bedford  with  D.,  who 
is  to  breakfast  with  me.  I  have  never  known  what  adversity  is, 
or  I  should  be  able,  perhaps,  to  understand  his  incomprehensi- 
ble recklessness  and  quiet,  with  things  hanging  over  him  which 
if  discovered  might  leave  him  a  beggar  and  an  outcast.  I  do  not 
love  him  now  as  in  old  times,  and  perhaps  it  is  lucky  for  me, 
for  my  pocket  at  any  rate  !" 

Another  day  he  is  going  about  trying  to  find  a  market  for 
his  caricatures.  A  certain  Mr,  Gibbs'says  he  can  dispose  of 
them  for  him.  There  is  also  another  friend,  a  bookseller. 
"  Had  a  talk  with  Mayer,  who  is  quite  a  patriarch  in  his  way. 
A  fat  old  fellow  in  black  tights  and  gaiters.  He  has  promised 
to  let  me  have  his  books  at  trade  price." 

Here  is  another  entry  :  "  BuUcr  and  Curzon*  dined  with  me 
at  the  Bedford.  Ciirzon  is  the  same  noble  little  fellow  he  was 
at  school,  with  all  his  old  enthusiasm  and  no  humbug.  When  I 
supposed  him  grown  cool,  it  was  I  that  was  conceited,  and  not 
he ;  meeting  Curzon  again  has  made  me  very  happy." 

"  Sunday,  May  13. — Breakfasted  with  Edwards.  Sat  all  the 
morning  with  Dobbs.  To-day  a  bishop  has  been  pulled  out  of 
his  pulpit;  what  may  come  to-morrow? — perhaps  a  king  may  be 
pulled  off  his  throne.  This  sounds  very  like  clap-trap,  l)ut  I  fear 
it  will  be  true." 

"Read  law  for  about  an  hour.  Went  at  eleven  to  Somerset 
Coffee  House;  met  Dr.  Maginn,  whom  I  like  for  his  wit  and 
good  feeling.  Thence  to  Montagu  Place  to  finish  the  pantomime 
trick  for  John  Henry.  Called  at  Kcmble's,  Du  Pre's,  and  Patties', 
and  dined  at  the  Bedford.  J.  Kemble  and  Pearson  here  till  late  in 
the  evening  talking  metaphysics,  of  which  Pearson  has  read  a 
good  deal,  and  Kemble  amazingly  little.  Walked  in  the  Park 
with  Mr.  Dick  and  Kemble;  met  the  Duke  looking  like  an  old  hero." 

*  Hon.  R.  Curzon,  author  of  "Curzon's  Monasteries" — a  Carthusian  to 
begin  with. 


INTRODUCTION  xxiii 

It  is  at  Dr.  Maginn's  that  my  father  meets  Mr.  Giffard,  a 
"  very  learned  and  pleasant  man,"  and  further  on  he  writes : 
"  Very  much  delighted  with  the  goodness  of  Giffard."* 

At  first  there  are  constant  mentions  of  Dr.  Maginn,  of  his 
scholarship  and  kindness  and  brilliant  talk ;  then  come  others 
far  less  to  the  Doctor's  credit.  The  reverse  of  the  medal  ap- 
pears:  it  is  not  the  King's  head  any  more  that  we  see;  but  the 
dragon,  with  its  claws  and  ugly  forked  tongue  turns  up,  and  alas  ! 
no  St.  Geoi'ge  to  the  rescue. 

The  story  is  a  tragic  one.  How  could  it  be  otherwise  with 
such  brilliant  gifts,  such  fatal  instincts.  Mrs.  Oliphant,  before 
she  laid  down  her  pen,  that  pen  which  was  ever  moved  by  lov- 
ing wit,  told  the  history  and  quoted  Lockhart's  touching  epi- 
taph, of  which  the  last  line  sums  up  the  spirit  of  the  whole  : 
"  Many  worse,  better  few,  than  bright,  broken  Maginn." 

The  echoes,  the  common-sense,  the  daily  sounds  and  sights 
of  the  early  thirties,  seem  to  reach  one  as  one  looks  over  these 
letters  and  note-books  of  a  date  when  even  the  early  Victorian 
times  were  not,  and  William  was  King,  when  the  heroes  who 
had  fought  for  England  and  her  very  existence  were  resting  on 
their  laurels  and  turning  their  swords  into  scythes. 

There  were  domestic  battles  still  to  contest.  The  Reform 
Bill  was  being  fought  inch  by  inch — "  that  Catilinarian  Reform 
Bill,"  as  Coleridge  calls  it,  writing  at  the  time  from  Highgate 
Hill.  In  the  little  hall  of  my  father's  house  in  Young  Street 
there  used  to  be  a  print  hanging  over  tl>e  chimney-piece  which 
represented  the  passing  of  the  Reform  Bill.  It  was  a  well- 
known  print  by  S.  W.  Reynolds.  Lord  John  Russell,  as  a 
young  man,  is  standing  up  with  a  very  high  collar  to  his  coat. 
Lord  Pahnerston,  and  all  the  great  men  of  the  time,  with  curls 
and  mutton-chop  whiskers,  are  grouped  round  about  in  ingen- 
ious profiles  and  three-quarter  faces.  A  gleam  of  light  conies 
dazzling  in  from  one  of  the  windows  overhead,  and  is  falling 
straight  upon  the  scroll  of  Liberty. 

"  The  Ministers,  the  Reform  Bill,  and  the  country  gone  to 
the  devil,"  my  father  writes  on  May  9th.    "Went  to  the  House 

*  Probably  T.  L.  Giffard,  editor  of  the  Standard,  and  father  of  the  present 
Lord  Halsbury. — Diet,  Nat.  Biog. 


xxiv  YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS 

of  Commons  and  got  iu  with  Curzon's  order.  It  will  soon,  I 
suppose,  be  a  house  of  delegates.  .  .  .  Bought  a  big  stick  where- 
with to  resist  all  parties  in  case  of  an  attack." 

But  after  all  there  is  no  rising  in  London  as  he  anticipates. 

"  The  Duke  has  been  attacked  in  the  streets,"  he  says  fur- 
ther on.  "  Bracy  walked  home  with  him;  the  Duke  shook  his 
hand  and  thanked  him.  Bracy  says  he  has  lived  four  and 
twenty  years,  but  never  felt  so  happy  as  to-day.  Bravo,  Bracy ! 
I  did  not  think  you  such  a  trump  before." 

The  Reform  Bill  played  a  part  in  my  father's  life  as  it  did 
in  that  of  his  friends,  and  at  this  time  he  himself  made  his  first 
appearance  in  the  arena  of  politics. 

But  he  was  never  a  keen  politician.  Pictures  and  plays 
form  a  much  larger  share  of  his  early  interests  than  either  poli- 
tics or  law  cases.  Only  he  sympathized  warmly  with  his  friends 
and  companions,  and  never  hesitated  to  utter  his  sympathies. 
It  is  impossible  also  not  to  feel  even  now  how  just  were  his  in- 
stinctive provisions  and  criticisms.  Any  one  reading  the  speech- 
es he  made  in  1858,  when  he  was  standing  for  the  City  of  Ox- 
ford, might  realise  how  many  of  the  things  which  he  advocated 
then  have  come  about.  I  can  still  remember  how  people  blamed 
him  for  some  of  the  things  he  said,  for  wishing  for  the  Ballot, 
for  Universal  Suffrage,  and  for  all  the  changes  that  we  are  quite 
used  to  now,  which  have  proved  to  be  friendly  ploughs  making 
ready  the  land  for  the  harvest  of  the  future,  rather  than  those 
catastrophes  and  cataclysms  which  were  anticipated.  "  How 
deeply  we  all  regret  your  dear  father's  dangerous  views,"  I  can 
remember  various  voices  saying,  with  a  quaver  of  disapproba- 
tion ;  specially  one  dignified  old  lady,  who',  I  believe,  asked  us 
to  dinner  solely  on  pui'pose  to  remonstrate  with  him. 

He  used  sometimes  to  speak  of  a  happy  expedition  into 
Cornwall,  when  he  went  to  Liskeard  to  help  Charles  Buller  in 
his  election  in  1832.  Long  after,  when  the  people  of  Liskeard 
sent  to  ask  my  father  himself  to  stand  as  their  representative, 
he  was  greatly  tempted  and  amused  by  the  suggestion,  but  he 
said  he  could  not  afford  it  then.  This  happened  before  he  had 
crossed  the  water  to  America.  The  £1000  which  Oxford  cost 
him  in  later  days  was,  I  think,  all  paid  for  in  silver  dollars. 


INTRODUCTION  xxv 

The  account  of  the  Duller  election  is  in  his  diary,  and  is 
cheerful  reading. 

There  is  also  a  letter  to  his  mother,  dated  from  Polwellan, 
West  Looe. 

''Jime25,  1832. 

"  Are  you  surprised,  dear  mother,  at  the  direction  ?  Cer- 
tainly not  more  prepared  for  it  than  I  was  myself,  but  you  must 
know  that  on  Tuesday  in  last  week  I  went  to  breakfast  with 
Charles  Buller,  and  he  received  a  letter  from  his  constituents  at 
Liskeard  requesting  him  immediately  to  come  down  ;  he  was  too 
ill,  but  instead  deputed  Arthur  Buller  and  myself — so  off  we 
set  that  same  night  by  the  mail,  arrived  at  Plymouth  the  next 
day,  and  at  Liskeard  the  day  after,  when  we  wrote  addresses, 
canvassed  farmers,  and  dined  with  attorneys.  Then  we  came 
on  to  Mr.  Buller's,  and  here  I  have  been  very  happy  since  Fri- 
day. On  Wednesday  last  I  was  riding  for  twelve  hours'  can- 
vassing— rather  a  feat  for  me  ;  and  considering  I  have  not  been 
on  horseback  for  eight  months  my  stiffness  yesterday  was  by 
no  means  surprising.  But  it  is  seven  o'clock  of  a  fine  summer's 
morning,  so  I  have  no  fatigue  to  complain  of.  I  have  been  ly- 
ing awake  this  morning  meditating  on  the  wise  and  proper  man- 
ner I  shall  employ  my  fortune  on  when  I  come  of  age,  which, 
if  I  live  so  long,  will  take  place  in  three  weeks.  .  .  .  Charles 
Buller  comes  down  at  the  end  of  next  week:  if  you  want  me 
sooner  I  will  come  ;  if  not,  I  should  like  to  wait  for  the  Re- 
form rejoicings,  which  are  to  take  place  on  his  arrival,  particu- 
larly as  I  have  a  great  share  in  the  canvassing." 

FROM    THE    DIARY. 

''June  20,  1832. — Breakfasted  with  Charles  Buller.  At 
eight  o'clock  we  set  off  by  the  mail  outside,  crossed  the  water 
to  Tor  Point,  and  set  off  for  Liskeard  by  the  mail.  Here  our 
first  act  was  a  blunder — we  went  to  the  wrong  Inn.  This,  how- 
ever, was  soon  remedied,  our  trunks  were  withdrawn,  and  our- 
selves breakfasted  at  Mr.  Lyne's  the  attorney. 

"  Most  of  the  day  was  occupied  in  composing  an  address  for 
Charles  Buller,  the  one  he  sent  down  being  considered  unsatis- 
factory. Arthur's  was  fixed  upon  by  us,  it  was  good  but  wordy  ; 
then  we  went  to  see  two  more  attorneys  to  con  over  the  address. 


xxvi  YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS 

and  to  drink  tea,  and  at  half-past  ten  we  set  oflE  in  pouring  rain 
to  Polwellan,  where  we  arrived  at  twelve,  and  went  gladly  to  bed." 

"  Thursday,  June  21. — Woke  and  forgot  all  my  travelling 
troubles  after  a  long  sweet  sleep,  and  found  myself  in  a  very 
charming  house,  in  a  pretty  room,  and  with  a  pleasant  family  ; 
the  servants  all  mistook  me  for  Charles  Buller.  I  was  kindly 
received  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Buller.  The  day  has  passed  pleas- 
antly enough  with  a  walk,  and  a  lunch,  and  a  ride,  and  a  dinner, 
and  a  long  talk  afterwards  about  subjects  of  which  none  of  the 
party  knew  anything.  At  dinner  there  was  a  gentleman  re- 
markable for  his  name,  Captain  Toop  Nicholas.  The  house  is 
very  pleasant,  the  master  of  it  most  kind-hearted  and  honest, 
and  the  mistress  a  very  charming  woman,  an  ancient  flame  of 
my  father's.  We  rode  to  Morvel,  an  Elizabethan  house  with 
some  noble  woods.  On  Wednesday  rode  with  A.  Buller  twelve 
miles  canvassing,  and  found  much  more  good  feeling  and  in- 
telligence among  the  farmers  than  I  had  expected.  There  seems 
to  be  a  class  of  farmers  here  unknown  to  our  part  of  Devonshire, 
men  of  tolerable  education,  though  not  of  a  large  property,  not 
unlike  the  Scotch  farmer." 

Elsewhere  my  father  describes  his  host,  "  as  he  sits  at  table 
surrounded  by  his  family  portraits,  a  fine  specimen  of  a  kind  al- 
most gone  out  now." 

Here  is  a  pleasant  page  of  life.  "  After  a  merry  day  at  Tem- 
plars we  set  off  in  his  cart  to  Newton,  where  we  waited  till  8.30 
for  the  mail.  At  about  one  we  reached  Plymouth,  and  on  Mon- 
day, 9th,  arrived  by  mail  at  ten  o'clock  at  Liskeard,  and  found  all 
the  town  in  an  uproar,  with  flags,  processions,  and  triumphal 
arches,  to  celebrate  Charles  Buller's  arrival.  Rode  out  to  meet 
him,  and  had  the  honour,  with  some  half-a-dozen  others,  to  be 
dragged  in  with  him.  The  guns  were  fired,  the  people  shouted 
and  pulled  us  through  all  parts  of  the  town.  C.  Buller  made  a 
good  speech  enough,  then  we  adjourned  to  Mrs.  Austin's  to 
lunch,  and  then  to  submit  again  to  be  pulled  about  for  the 
pleasure  of  the  constituents.  This  business  lasted  from  twelve 
till  four,  during  which  I  was  three  times  gratified  by  hearing 
my  song  about  Jope  sung  t6  a  tune,  I  suppose  by  some  of  the 
choristers.  .  .  .  Arrived  at  Polwellan  at  six,  and  was  glad  to 
see  it  again,  for  they  certainly  have  been  very  kind." 


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xxviii  YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS 

The  notes  of  electioneering  alternate  with  the  books  which 
he  is  reading,  the  people  he  is  talking  to,  and  the  places  he 
visits.  He  reads  "  Wallenstein  "  in  the  morning,  rides  in  the 
afternoon,  talks  to  the  young  ladies  in  the  evening,  and  draws^ 
pictures.  He  meets  Sir  William  Molesworth,  who  is  standing 
for  the  county,  and  with  whom  he  always  kept  up  a  friendship 
in  after  life,  and  who  is  here  described  as  a  "  sensible  fellow." 
Electors  go  on  dragging  carriages  and  feasting  in  gardens,  can- 
didates make  speeches,  and  when  it  pours  with  rain  they  all  ad- 
journ together  to  the  Town  Hall.  Dances  as  well  as  tea  drink- 
ings  are  given  in  the  cause  of  Liberal  politics.  One  lady  ap- 
pears upon  the  scene,  by  whom  at  first  he  seems  to  be  rather 
fascinated.  But  she  —  counting,  perhaps,  too  much  upon  a 
young  man's  powers  of  attention — spares  him  no  detail  of  com- 
plicated domestic  history,  and  on  Saturday,  July  11,  he  notes, 
"A  blank  chiefly  occupied  by  Mrs.  's  voluminous  conver- 
sation." 

Politicians  appear  to  have  been  cheerful,  young,  and  gay  in 
those  days,  with  much  less  of  Guy  Favvkes  about  them  than 
th^re  is  now. 

On  the  18th  July  1832  he  writes :  "  Here  is  the  day  for  which 
I  have  been  panting  so  long."  He  was  now  of  age  and  his  own 
master. 

H. 

I  have  heard  that  the  man  who  followed  my  father  at  Mr. 
Taprell's  chambers  found  the  desk  full  of  sketches  and  carica- 
tures, which  he  had  left  behind  him,*  It  was  quite  evident  that 
though  he  was  amused  by  the  work  at  first,  his  real  place  was 
not  in  Hare  Court ;  his  gifts  lay  in  other  directions,  and  the 
visions  here  depicted  were  never  to  be  realised,  although  my 
father  was  actually  called  to  the  Bar  in  1848. 

In  May  of  1832  he  had  written:  "  This  lawyer's  preparatory 
education  is  certainly  one  of  the  most  cold-blooded,  prejudiced 
pieces  of  invention  that  ever  a  man  was  slave  to.  ...  A  fellow 

*  Mr.  Reginald  Smith  tells  me  that  the  successor  to  my  father's  place, 
who  rose  to  be  a  dignitary  of  the  law,  unwarily  showed  his  trouvaille  to  the 
Special  Pleader,  who  confiscated  the  sketches. 


INTRODUCTION 


XXIX 


should  properly  do  and  think  of  nothing  else  than  Law.  Never 
mind.  I  begin  to  find  out  that  people  are  much  wiser  than  I 
am  (which  is  a  rare  piece  of  modesty  in  me),  and  that  old  heads 
do  better  than  young  ones,  that  is  in  their  generation,  for  I  am 
sure  that  a  young  man's  ideas,  however  absurd  and  rhapsodical 


^-^^8^ 


PEEPINO    LADY. 


they  are,  though  they  mayn't  smack  so  much  of  experience  as 
those  of  these  old  calculating  codgers,  contain  a  great  deal  more 
nature  and  virtue.  Here  are  hot  weather  and  green  trees  again, 
dear  mother,  but  the  sun  won't  shine  into  Taprell's  chamber, 
and  the  high  stools  don't  blossom  and  bring  forth  buds.  0 
matutini  roses  aura  que  salubres !  I  do  long  so  for  fresh  air 
and  fresh  butter,  only  it  isn't  romantic." 

His  deliverance  followed  close  upon  this,  for  he  seems  to  have 
gone  straight  from  Cornwall  to  France,  stopping  at  Havre,  sketch- 
ing by  the  way,  and  reaching  Paris  before  the  end  of  August. 


XXX  YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS 

At  Paris  my  father  immediately  subscribed  to  a  reading-room 
m  the  Palais  Royal,  with  quiet  rooms  and  a  pleasant  look-out. 
He  seems  to  have  set  to  work  at  once,  sent  for  a  master,  and 
begun  to  study  French  literature,  lie  came  in  for  the  rise  of 
the  romantic  school,  and  he  makes  his  own  criticism  upon  it 

"  In  the  time  of  Voltaire,"  he  says,  "  the  heroes  of  poetry 
and  drama  were  fine  gentlemen ;  in  the  days  of  Victor  Hugo 
they  bluster  about  in  velvet  and  mustachios  and  gold  chains,  but 
they  seem  in  nowise  more  poetical  than  their  rigid  predecessors. 

"  I  read  to-day  a  novel  of  Balzac's  called  the  Peau  de  Chagrin, 
which  possesses  many  of  the  faults  and  many  of  the  beauties  of 
the  school.  Plenty  of  light  and  shade,  good  colouring  and  cos- 
tumes, but  no  character." 

He  also  reads  in  Gibbon  and  studies  old  Montaigne,  and  is 
absorbed  by  Cousin's  "  History  of  Philosophy."  "  The  excite- 
ment of  metaphysics  must  equal  almost  that  of  gambling,"  he 
says.  Besides  reading  books  of  every  sort  and  size  he  goes  to 
the  Louvre,  to  the  Bibliotheque  Royale,  looking  over  the  en- 
gravings and  copying  some  of  them,  and  very  constantly  indeed 
he  is  at  the  theatre,  where  he  sees  most  of  the  actors,  and  young 
Mdlle.  Mars  "  playing  deliciously  in  a  pretty  piece  called  Valerie,''^ 
and  Mdlle.  Dejazet  at  the  Palais  Royal  in  a  piece  called  Napo- 
leon a  Brienne — N.apoleon  was  apparently  as  much  in  fashion 
then  as  now. — At  Franconi's  they  have  also  a  representation  of 
the  Emperor  and  all  his  army. 

Here  is  a  very  striking  comment  upon  a  contemporary 
event: — 

Paris,  August  8,  1832. 

"  I  read  the  other  day  in  the  papers — Hier  S.M.  a  envoye 
com'plimenter  V Ambassade^ir  de  VAutriche  sur  la  mori  du  Due 
de  Reichstadt.  It  is  as  fine  a  text  for  a  sermon  as  any  in  the 
Bible — this  poor  young  man  dying,  as  many  say,  of  poison,  and 
L.  P.  presenting  his  compliments  on  the  occasion.  Oh,  Genius, 
Glory,  Ambition — what  ought  you  to  learn  from  this  ?  and  what 
might  I  not  teach,  only  I  am  hungry  and  going — to  breakfast !" 

It  was  in  January  1833  that  Major  Carmichael-Srayth  became 
associated  with  the  National  Standard  and  Journal  of  Litera- 
ture^ Science,  Music,  and  the  Fine  Arts — I  have  do  doubt,  partly 


INTRODUCTION        <  xxxi 

with  a  view  to  give  my  father  an  opening-  in  literature,  and  also 
to  retrieve  some  heavy  losses  which  had  fallen  upon  them  both 
about  this  time  ; — an  Indian  bank  had  failed,  English  money 
was  mismanaged,  and  retrenchment  became  absolutely  neces- 
sary. The  following  letters  will  show  that  he  was  working 
very  steadily  at  journalism  for  some  time  besides  thinking  of 
painting  as  a  profession.  The  first  is  written  in  London  to  her 
mother  at  Porchester  Terrace,  Bayswater : — 

"  I  have  been  wanting  very  much  to  see  you,  dearest  mother, 
but  this  paper  has  kept  me  so  busily  at  work,  that  I  really  and 
truly  had  no  time. 

"  I  have  made  a  woodcut  for  it  of  Louis  Philippe,  which  is 
pretty  good ;  but  have  only  written  nonsense,  in  the  shape  of 
reviews.  The  paper  comes  out  to-morrow  afternoon,  and  then 
I  will  come  up  to  you  with  a  copy  thereof.  I  have  been  obliged 
to  put  off  the  play  and  everything  else,  having  actually  done 
nothing  except  work  the  paper.  I  send  a  boy  with  this,  for  I 
thought  you  would  be  glad  to  know  what  my  proceedings  are. 
God  bless  you,  dearest  mother !  I  send  you  a  couple  of  maga- 
zines I  have  received  in  my  new  capacity." 

The  next  letter  comes  from  France  again : — 

Paris,  July  6,  1833. 

"It  looks  well  to  have  a  Parisian  correspondent,  and  I  think 
that  in  a  month  more  I  may  get  together  stuff  enough  for  the 
next  six  months.  I  have  been  thinking  very  seriously  of  turn- 
ing artist;  I  think  I  can  draw  better  than  do  anything  else,  and 
certainly  like  it  better  than  any  other  occupation  ;  why  shouldn't 
I  ?  It  requires  a  three  years'  apprenticeship,  however,  which  is 
not  agreeable,  and  afterwards  the  way  is  clear  and  pleasant  enough. 
An  artist  in  this  town  is  by  far  a  more  distinguished  person  than 
a  lawyer,  and  a  great  deal  more  so  than  a  clergyman." 

It  will  be  seen  that  there  were  different  views  then  about  art, 
to  those  we  hold  now  ;  parents  have  to  be  convinced  by  the 
rising  generations  in  turn. 

During  these  two  or  three  years  my  father  seems  to  have 


XXXll 


YELLOW  PLUSH    PAPERS 


come  and  gone  constantly  from  Paris  to  London,  probably  on 
account  of  his  work  for  the  newspapers. 

He  writes  from  the  Garrick  Club,  on  September  6,  1833 :  "  I 
am  wanting  very  much  to  leave  this  dismal  city,  dear  mother, 
but  1  must  stay  for  some  time  longer,  being  occupied  in  writ- 
ing, puffing,  &c.,  and  other  delightful  employments  for  the 
Standard.  I  have  had  an  offer  made  for  a  partner,  which  1 
think  1  shall  accept,  but  the  business  cannot  be  settled  for  a 
week  or  ten  days.  In  the  meantime  I  get  on  as  well  as  I  can, 
spending  my  mornings  in  St.  Paul's  Churchyard,  and  my  even- 
ings in  this  Qub,  which  is  a  pleasant  and  cheap  place  of  resort. 
We  have,  thanks  to  me  and  some  other  individuals,  established 
a  smoking-room,  another  great  comfort.  I  am  writing  on  a 
fine,  frosty  day,  which,  consideiing  this  is  the  height  of  the 
summer,  or  ought  to  be,  is  the  more  to  be  appreciated.  1  find 
a  great  change  between  this  and  Paris,  where  one  makes  friends  ; 
here,  though  for  the  last  three  years  I  have  lived,  I  have  not 
positively  a  single  female  acquaintance.  I  shall  go  back  to 
Paris,  I  think,  and  marry  somebody.  There  is  another  evil 
which  I  complain  of,  that  this  system  of  newspaper  writing 
spoils  one  for  every  other  kind  of  writing.  I  am  unwilling,  now 
more  than  ever,  to  write  letters  to  my  friends,  and  always  find 


Mr.  Poole,  Don  Telebfoko  de  Tocche.  James  Smith, 

Author  of  "  Paul  Pry."  ' '  Rejected  Addresses." 

GARRICK   CLUB  HEADS. 


myself  attempting  to  make  a  pert,  critical  point  at  the  end  of  a 
sentence.  I  have  just  had  occasion  to  bid  adieu  to  Regulus  ; 
he  has  been  breaking  bottles  of  wine  and  abstracting  liquors 
therefrom,  and  this  after  T  had  given  him  a  coat,  a  hat,  and  a 


INTRODUCTION 


XXXlll 


half-crown  to  go  to  Bartholomew  Fair.  He  lied  stoutly,  wept 
much,  and  contradicted  himself  more  than  once,  so  I  have  been 
obliged  to  give  him  his  conge,  and  am  now  clerkless.     This  is, 


DOMESTIC    DREAMS. 


I  think,  the  only  adventure  which  has  occurred  to  me.  I  have 
been  talking  of  going  out  of  town,  but  les  affaires  ! — as  for  the 
theatres,  they  are  tedious  beyond  all  bearing,  and  a  solitary 
evening  in  chambers  is  more  dismal  still.  One  has  no  resource 
but  the  Club,  where,  however,  there  is  a  tolerably  good  library 
of  reviews  and  a  pleasant  enough  society— of  artists  of  all  kinds, 
and  gentlemen  who  drop  their  absurd  English  aristocratical  no- 
tions. You  see  by  this  what  I  am  thinking  of — I  wish  we  were 
all  in  a  snug  apartment  in  the  Rue  de  Provence.  FitzGerald  has 
been  in  town  for  a  day  or  two,  and  I  have  plenty  of  his  acquaint- 
ances. There  are  a  number  of  litterateurs  who  frequent  this 
Club,  and  the  National  Standard  is,  I  am  happy  to  say,  grow- 
ing into  repute,  though  I  know  it  is  poor  stuff. 

"A  friend  of  mine,  just  come  from  the  country,  says  he  shot 


xxxiv  YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS 

ten  brace  on  the  1st  of  September ;  may  father  have  had  as  good 
sport.    There  are  lots  of  partridges  here  for  four  shillings  a  pair. 

These  are  some  of  the  characters  of  the  Club;  Smith  is  very 
like." 

In  October  he  is  back  in  Paris  again,  and  writes  to  his 
mother :  "  1  want  now  to  settle,  to  marry,  and  then  to  live  in 
the  little  house  in  Albion  Street,  going  to  church  regularly,  ris- 
ing early,  and  walking  in  the  Park  with  Mrs.  T. 

"  Then  what  interesting  letters  I  could  write  you  about  Billy's 
progress  in  cutting  his  teeth,  and  Johnny's  improvement  in  spell- 
ing !  As  it  is,  I  have  nothing  earthly  to  talk  about  except  my- 
self— and  I  am  tired  of  filling  my  letters  with  Ps. 

"  I  spend  all  day  now  at  the  Atelier,  and  am  very  well  satis- 
fied with  the  progress  I  make.  I  think  that  in  a  year,  were  1 
to  work  hard,  I  might  paint  something  worth  looking  at.  The 
other  men  at  the  Atelier  are  merry  fellows  enough,  always  sing- 
ing, smoking,  fencing,  and  painting  very  industriously  besides. 
Most  of  them  have  skill  in  painting,  but  no  hand  for  drawing. 
Little  Le  Portein  himself  is  a  wonderful  fellow.  I  never  knew 
so  young  a  man  paint  so  well  and  so  rapidly.  .  .  .'The  artists, 
with  their  wild  ways  and  their  poverty,  are  the  happiest  fellows 
in  the  world.  I  wish  you  could  see  the  scene  every  day  in  the 
Atelier.  Yesterday  we  had  a  breakfast  for  five,  consisting  of 
five  sausages,  three  loaves,  and  a  bottle  of  wine,  for  fifteen  sous. 
Afterwards  pipes  succeeded,  and  then  songs,  imitations  of  all 
the  singers  in  Paris." 

It  is  well  known  that  the  Literary  Standard  did  not  fly  for 
very  long.  After  it  was  hauled  down  my  father  returned  to 
Paris,  and  resumed  his  painting.  He  has  left  us  one  or  two 
sketches  of  his  student  life. 

"  W.  M.  T.  to  Mrs.  Carmichael-Smytfi. 

"Garrick  Club,  December  1833. 
"I  fear,  the  Xs.  pudding  must  be  eaten  without  me,  as  my 
assistant,  Hume,  has  gone  into  the  country,  and  left  me  to  do 
all  the  work.  Now  I  am  anxious  that  the  first  number  for  the 
year  should  be  a  particularly  good  one,  and  I  am  going  to 
change  the  name  to  the  Literary  Standard,  and  increase  the 
price  to  3d.,  with  which  alteration  I  hope  to  do  better.     I  am 


INTRODUCTION 


XXXV 


sure  we  shall  be  as  merry  in  the  new  house  as  possible.  I  be- 
lieve I  ought  to  thank  Heaven  for  making  me  poor  —  it  has 
made  me  much  happier  than  I  should  have  been  with  the  money. 
But  this  is  a  selfish  wish,  for  I  shall  now  have  to  palm  myself 
on  you  and  my  father  just  at  the  time  when  I  ought  to  be  inde- 
pendent." 

At  this  time  he  was  working  with  Brine,  who  was  a  well- 
known  artist  of  the  dashing,  impressionist  school. 

There  is  one  scene  from  the  Atelier  in  his  note-book  which 
might  have  been  quoted  by  Mr.  du  Maurier  in  his  "  History  of 
Trilby "  :  about  a  girl  who  would  not  pose,  but  instead  sang 
songs  and  cut  capers ;  and  this  is  followed  by  a  description  of 


ATELIER. 


the  artist  at  the  head  of  the  studio,  "  a  venerable  man  with  a 
riband  of  honour,  an  excellent  man  I  am  told,  a  good  father  of  a 
family — but  superior  to  all  the  rest  by  the  extreme  bathos  of 
his  blackguardisms.  ...  It  is  no  wonder  that  the  French  are 
such  poor  painters  with  all  this." 

On  June  11  he  writes:  "Tuesday  the  Louvre  opened,  and  I 
made  on  that  day,  and  Wednesday,  a  little  copy  of  Watteau.and 
of  another  picture.  ...   It  is  very  pleasant  and  calm  to  the  eye 


xxxvi  YELLOW  PLUSH    PAPERS 

to  see  the  old  pictures  after  the  flaring  gaudy  exhibitions,  whicli 
shut  up  in  January.  I  have  been  looking  with  much  delight  at 
the  Paul  Veronese,  and  at  some  bits  of  Rubens's.  The  Raphaels 
do  not  strike  me  more  than  they  did  before."  On  another  day 
he  notes  at  the  Bibliotheque  du  Roi:  "Copied  and  admired 
Lucas  van  Leyden,  a  better  man,  I  think,  than  Albert  Diirer,  and 
mayhap  as  great  a  composer  as  Raphael  himself." 

He  had  been  living  with  his  grandmother,  Mrs.  Butler,  most 
of  this  time,  and  with  various  old  ladies,  her  friends  and  ac- 
quaintances. It  is  impossible  not  to  be  struck  by  my  father's 
patience  and  dutifulness,  and  by  the  way  in  which  he  bore  with 
trying  tempers  and  with  the  infirmities  of  age  and  disposition, 
but  it  can  be  imagined  that  this  was  not  a  very  congenial  at- 
mosphere;  domestic  nerves  and  squabbles  were  always  in  the 
air,  and  he  often  thinks  with  envy  of  a  quiet  garret  or  a  silent 
cell  to  himself.  Finally  he  seems  to  have  accomplished  his  am- 
bition. 

"  This  is  our  last  day  at  Chaillot,"  he  writes,  "  and  I  am  sor- 
ry to  leave  this  most  beautiful  view,  though  I  shall  be  happy 
enough  in  my  little  den  in  the  Rue  des  Beaux  Arts,  where  I  in- 
tend to  work  hard,  and  lead  a  most  pious,  sober,  and  godly 
life  ;"  and  so  the  journal  ends.  A  great  many  blank  leaves  fol- 
low, and  a  few  more  accounts,  and  a  new  page  is  turned  over. 


HL 

My  father  has  sometimes  told  me  that  he  lost  his  heart  to 
my  mother  when  he  heard  her  sing  ;  she  had  a  very  sweet 
voice  and  an  exquisite  method. 

He  was  twenty-five  when  he  married,  in  183C,  and  I  have 
lately  read  the  register,  copied  verbatiTn  from  the  records  of  the 
French  Embassy  at  Paris,  as  quoted  by  Messrs.  Merivale  &  Mar- 
zials.  My  mother  was  Isabella  Gethen  Creagh  Shawe,  daughter 
of  Colonel  Matthew  Shawe;  her  mother  was  a  Creagh. 

Another  important  event  happened  to  my  father  in  1836:  a 
second  newspaper  was  started,  in  which  he  and  his  stepfather 
were  very  much  concerned.  Major  Carmichael- Smyth  was 
chairman  of  a  company  formed  to  publish  the  Constitutional, 
an  ultra-Liberal  newspaper,  that  was  to  have  the   support  of 


INTRODUCTION  xxxvh 

Charles  Biiller,  Sir  William  Moles  worth,  and  the  Radical  party. 
By  Major  Carmichael-Smyth's  interest  my  father,  who  had  a 
great  many  shares  in  the  undertaking,  was  appointed  Paris  cor- 
respondent, at  a  salary  of  £400  a  year.  It  was  upon  this  ap- 
pointment that  he  married.  He  had  met  my  mother  at  his 
grandmother's — there  had  been  ancient  Indian  relations  between 
the  families. 

A  recent  book  of  pictures  by  Mr.  Eyre  Crowe,  R.A.,  gives  a 
charming  sketch  of  the  Rue  St.  Augustin  as  it  was  in  1836, 
when  my  father  and  my  mother  lived  in  that  quarter.  The  New 
Street  of  the  Little  Fields  was  close  by  with  that  Restaurant  so 
famed  for  its  Bouille-a-baisse.  In  this  same  book  are  to  be 
found  many  more  of  an  old  friend's  remembrances  and  sketches. 
One  is  of  the  house  in  London  in  which  my  parents  settled  down 
in  1837,  in  Great  Coram  Street,  out  of  Brunswick  Square. 

The  Yellowplush  correspondence — one  of  the  earliest  of  the 
author's  contributions  to  literature — must  have  been  written  in 
Great  Coram  Street.  It  appeared  in  Fraser's  Magazine  in  1837. 
It  is  the  first  of  his  writings  that  was  ever  published  as  a  book, 
having  been  brought  out,  not  in  England,  but  in  America,  in 
1838,  by  Messrs.  E.  L.Carey  and  L.  A.  Hart,  of  Philadelphia.* 
The  book  was  not  republished  in  England  until  1841  by  Hugh 
Cunningham. 

I  hardly  know — nor  if  I  knew,  should  I  care  to  give  here— 
the  names  and  the  details  of  the  events  which  suffffested  some 
of  the  Yellowplush  papers.  The  history  of  Mr.  Deuceace  was 
written  from  life  during  a  very  early  period  of  my  father's  ca- 
reer. Nor  can  one  wonder  that  his  views  were  somewhat  grim 
at  that  particular  time,  and  still  bore  the  impress  of  an  expe- 
rience lately  and  very  dearly  bought. 

He  was  naturally  trustful,  and  even  enthusiastic,  about  peo- 
ple who  were  kind  to  him ;  but,  as  it  seems  scarcely  necessary 
to  say,  the  author  of  "Vanity  Fair"  had  a  great  deal  of  com- 
mon-sense, and  a  very  rapid  perception  of  facts  when  they  final- 
ly shaped  themselves. 

As  a  boy  he  had  lost  money  at  cards  to  some  card-sharpers 
who  scraped  acquaintance  with  him.     He  has  told  us  that  they 

*  Mr.  W.  H.  Lambert,  of  Philadelphia,  has  kindly  sent  a  copy  of  this 
pretty  old-fashioned  volume. 


xxxviii  YELLOWI^LtlSH    PAPERS 

came  and  took  lodgings  opposite  to  his,  on  purpose  to  get  hold 
of  him.  He  never  blinked  at  the  truth,  or  spared  himself ;  but 
neither  did  he  blind  himself  as  to  the  real  characters  of  the 
people  in  question,  when  once  he  had  discovered  them.  His 
villains  became  curious  studies  in  human  nature;  he  turned 
them  over  in  his  mind,  and  he  caused  Deuceace,  Barry  Lyndon, 
and  Ikey  Solomons,  Esq.,  to  pay  back  some  of  their  ill-gotten 
spoils,  in  an  involuntary  but  very  legitimate  fashion,  when  he  put 
them  into  print  and  made  them  the  heroes  of  those  grim  early 
histories. 

"  Major  Gahagan  "  burst  into  life,  boots  and  all,  in  Colburn's 
New  Monthly  Magazine  for  1838.  In  a  frontispiece  to  "  Comic 
Tales  and  Sketches  "  are  to  be  found  the  three  portraits  of  Ma- 
jor Gahagan,  De  la  Pluche,  and  Michael  Angelo  Titmarsh,  arm 
in  arm — "  They  are  supposed  to  be  marching  hand  in  hand  on 
the  very  brink  of  immortality,"  says  Mr.  Titmarsh  in  his  intro- 
duction. 

Yellowplush,  that  bird  of  rare  plume,  also  belongs  to  this 
same  early  burst  of  fun  and  spring-time.  Yellowplush  contin- 
ued his  literary  efforts  for  some  years ;  but  as  he  went  up  in 
the  world,  he  became  Jeames  de  la  Pluche,  Esq.  The  longest 
lived  of  the  three  was  Michael  Angelo  Titmarsh,  a  life-long 
companion. 

We  know  that  Haroun  al  Raschid  used  to  like  to  wander 
about  the  streets  of  Bagdad  in  various  disguises,  and  in  the 
same  way  did  the  author  of  "  Vanity  Fair" — although  he  was 
not  a  Calif — enjoy  putting  on  his  various  dominos  and  charac- 
ters. None  of  these  are  more  familiar  than  that  figure  we  all 
know  so  well,  called  Michael  Angelo  Titmarsh.  No  doubt  my 
father  first  made  this  artist's  acquaintance  at  one  of  the  studios 
in  Paris.  Very  soon  Mr.  Titmarsh's  criticisms  began  to  appear 
in  various  papers  and  magazines.  He  visited  the  salons  as  well 
as  the  exhibitions  over  here,  he  drew  most  of  the  Christmas 
books,  and  wrote  them  too.  He  had  a  varied  career.  One 
could  almost  write  his  life.  For  a  time,  as  we  know,  he  was  an 
assistant  master  at  Dr.  Birch's  Academy.  .  .  .  He  was  first  cous- 
in to  Samuel  Titmarsh  of  the  great  "  Hoggarty  Diamond  "  ;  also 
he  painted  in  water-colours.  .  .  .  To  the  kingdom  of  Heaven  he 
assuredly  belongs  !  kindly,  humorous,  delightful  little  friend ; 


INTRODUCTION 


XXXIX 


DB   LA   PLUCHE.       M.    A.    TITMARSH.       MAJOR  GAHAGAN. 


xl  YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS 

droll  shadow  behind  which  my  father  loved  to  shelter  himself. 
In  Mr.  Barrie's  life  of  his  mother  he  tells  us  how  she  wonders 
that  he  should  always  write  as  if  he  were  some  one  not  him- 
self. Sensitive  people  are  glad  of  a  disguise,  and  of  a  familiar 
who  will  speak  their  thoughts  for  them.  .   .  . 

From  time  to  time  my  father  returned  from  Coram  Street  to 
Paris  for  short  visits  on  business  or  amusement. 

It  was  in  Paris  in  1838  that  he  wrote  the  following  letter  to 
my  mother,  part  of  which  I  cannot  help  copying  out : — 

"...  Here  have  we  been  two  years  married  and  not  a  sin- 
gle unhappy  day.  Oh,  I  do  bless  God  for  all  this  happiness 
which  He  has  given  me.  It  is  so  great  that  I  almost  tremble 
for  the  future,  except  that  I  humbly  hope  (for  what  man  is  cer- 
tain about  his  own  weakness  and  wickedness)  our  love  is  strong 
enough  to  withstand  any  pressure  from  without,  and  as  it  is  a 
gift  greater  than  any  fortune,  is  likewise  one  superior  to  pov- 
erty or  sickness,  or  any  other  worldly  evil  with  which  Provi- 
dence may  visit  us.  Let  us  pray,  as  I  trust  there  is  no  harm, 
that  none  of  these  may  come  upon  us ;  as  the  best  and  wisest 
Man  in  the  world  prayed  that  he  might  not  be  led  into  tempta- 
tion. ...  I  think  happiness  is  as  good  as  prayers,  and  I  feel 
in  my  heart  a  kind  of  overflowing  thanksgiving  which  is  (juitc 
too  great  to  describe  in  writing.  This  kind  of  happiness  is 
like  a  fine  picture,  you  only  see  a  little  bit  of  it  when  you  arc 
close  to  the  canvas,  go  a  little  distance  and  then  you  sec  how 
beautiful  it  is.  1  don't  know  that  I  shall  have  done  much 
by  coming  away,  except  being  so  awfully  glad  to  come  back 
again. 

"How  shall  I  fill  this  page — I  think  by  Mr.  U.  K.'s  hackney 
coach  adventure.  He  had  been  to  a  theatre  on  the  Boulevards, 
and  was  coming  home  with  a  lady.  It  was  midnight,  no  lamps 
on  the  Boulevards,  no  hackney  coaches,  and  pouring  cats  and 
dogs.  At  last  a  man  came  to  hira  and  asked  if  he  wanted  a 
coach.  Yes,  says  the  cheerful  correspondent  of  the  Times,  and 
in  he  jumped,  he  and  his  fair  lady.  Well,  two  men  got  on  the 
box,  and  when  after  half-an-hour  O.  R.  ventured  to  open  one  of 
the  windows,  he  found  they  were  driving  Heaven  knows  where, 
tearing  madly  down  solitary  streets  between  walls.  The  more 
he  cried  out,  the  more  the  man  would  not  stop ;  and  he  pulled 


INTRODUCTION  xli 

out  a  penknife,  and  folding  his  arm  round  the  waist  of  Mrs.  O. 
R.,  determined  to  sell  his  life  at  a  considerable  expense.  At 
this  instant,  0  bonheur  I — Providence  sent  a  man  into  that  very 
street,  which  before  or  since  was  never  known  to  echo  with  a 
mortal  footstep.  Swift  as  lightning,  the  young  correspondent 
burst  open  the  door  of  the  coach,  and  bidding  the  lady  follow, 
sprang  out.  Tliey  landed  in  safety.  Down  came  one  of  the 
ruffians  from  the  box,  when  O.  R.  with  gigantic  force  seized  his 
arm,  uplifted  no  doubt  to  murder  the  gentleman  of  the  press. 
He  held  him  writhing  in  his  iron  grip  until  the  stranger  ar- 
rived, whom  seeing,  t'other  chap  on  the  box  flogged  his  horses 
and  galloped  away  in  the  darkness  and  solitude.  The  poor 
wretch,  the  companion  of  his  guilt,  now  sunk  on  his  knees, 
when  the  stranger,  looking  at  him  fixedly  and  fiercely,  drew 
from  beneath  his  cloak  a  .  .  .  This  is  all.  God  bless  you, 
dearest  wife." 

"Paris,  March  20,  1838. 

'♦  There  is  a  chance  of  £350  a  year  here.  Poor  13.  is  dvincr, 
and  his  place  is  worth  as  much  ;  but  then  I  throw  away  a  very 
good  position  in  London,  where  I  can  make  as  much,  and  a  little 
fame  into  the  bargain.  My  game,  as  far  as  I  can  see  it,  is  to 
stick  to  the  7'imes.  I  have  just  come  from  seeing  '  Marion 
Delorme,'  the  tragedy  of  Victor  Hugo,  and  am  so  sickened  and 
disgusted  with  the  horrid  piece  that  I  have  hardly  heart  to  write. 
The  last  act  ends  with  an  execution,  and  you  are  kept  a  long  hour 
listening  to  the  agonies  of  parting  lovers  and  grim  speculations 
about  head-chopping,  dead  bodies,  coffins,  and  what  not — I  am 
as  sick  as  if  I  had  taken  an  emetic. 

"  I  have  been  writing  all  day,  and  finished  and  despatched  an 
article  for  the  Times.  My  next  visit  will  be  to  the  Spanish  pict- 
ures, the  next  to  Versailles,  and  on  Monday  next,  please  God,  I 
will  be  home.  . . .  To-day  I  have  been  to  Versailles,  and  afterwards 
to  the  opera — it  was  a  benefit,  and  all  sorts  of  oddities  from  all 
sorts  of  theatres  were  played — everything  intolerably  tedious,  ex- 
cept an  act  from  a  very  old  opera,  '  Orpheus,'  by  Gluck,  which 
was  neither  more  nor  less  than  sublime.  Dupre  is  the  most  de- 
lightful tenor  I  ever  heard,  with  a  simplicity  of  voice  and  method 
qnite  delicious,  as  good  as  Rubini,  without  his  faults,  singing 
his  notes  steadily  with  no  trick  or  catches  or  quavers  and  such 


xlii  YELLOWPLUSH    PAPERS 

music ;  like  very  fine  Mozart,  so  simple  and  melodious,  that  by 
all  the  gods  I  have  never  heard  anything  like  it. 

"  The  Versailles  gallery  is  a  humbug — a  hundred  gilded  rooms 
with  looking-glasses  and  carved  ceilings,  and  2000  bad  pictures 
to  ornament  them." 

Readers  of  the  "  Paris  Sketch  Book  "  will  perhaps  remember 
the  striking  passage  which  concludes  the  paper  entitled  "  Medi- 
tations at  Versailles." 

A.  I.  R. 


THE   HISTORY  OF 

SAMUEL    TITMARSH 


AND 


THE   GREAT    HOGGARTY   DIAMOND 


THE   HISTORY   OF 

SAMUEL   TITMARSH 


AND 


THE   GREAT    HOGGARTY   DIAMOND 


CHAPTER  I 

GIVES  AN  ACCOUNT  OF  OUR   VILLAGE  AND    THE  FIRST 
GLIMPSE  OF  THE  DIAMOND 

WHEN  I  came  up  to  town  for  my  second  year,  my  aunt 
Hoggarty  made  me  a  present  of  a  diamond-pin  ;  that  is  to 
say,  it  was  not  a  diamond-pin  then,  but  a  large  old-fashioned 
locket,  of  Dublin  mamdacture  in  the  year  1795,  which  the  late  Mr. 
Hoggarty  used  to  sport  at  the  Lord  Lieutenant's  balls  and  elsewhere. 
He  wore  it,  he  said,  at  the  battle  of  Vinegar  Hill,  when  his  club 
pigtail  saved  his  head  from  being  taken  of}', — but  that  is  neither 
here  nor  there. 

Li  the  middle  of  the  brooch  was  Hoggarty  in  the  scarlet  uniform 
of  the  corps  of  Fencibles  to  which  he  belonged  ;  around  it  were 
thirteen  locks  of  hair,  belonging  to  a  baker's  dozen  of  sisters  that 
the  old  gentleman  had  ;  and  as  all  these  little  ringlets  partook  of 
the  family  hue  of  brilliant  auburn,  Hoggarty's  portrait  seemed  to 
the  fanciful  view  like  a  great  fat  red  round  of  beef  surrounded  by 
thirteen  carrots.  These  were  dished  up  on  a  plate  of  blue  enamel, 
and  it  was  from  the  Great  Hoggarty  Diamond  (as  we  called  it 
in  the  family)  that  the  collection  of  hairs  in  question  seemed  as  it 
were  to  spring. 

My  aunt,  I  need  not  say,  is  rich ;  and  I  thought  I  might  be  her 
heir  as  well  as  another.  During  my  month's  holiday,  she  was  par- 
ticularly i)leased  "svith  me  ;  made  me  drink  tea  with  her  often 
(though  tliere  was  a  certain  person  in  tlie  village  witli  whom  on 
those  golden  summer  evenings  I  should  have  liked  to  have  taken 
a  stroll  in  the  hayfields) ;  promised  every  time  I  drank  her  bohea 


4         THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

to  do  something  handsome  for  me  when  I  went  back  to  town, — 
nay,  three  or  four  times  had  me  to  dinner  at  three,  and  to  whist  or 
cribbage  afterwards.  I  did  not  care  for  the  cards ;  for  tliough  we 
always  played  seven  hours  on  a  stretch,  and  I  always  lost,  my  losings 
were  never  more  than  nineteenpence  a  night :  but  there  was  some 
infernal  sour  black-currant  wine,  that  the  old  lady  always  pro- 
duced at  dinner,  and  with  the  tray  at  ten  o'clock,  and  which  I 
dared  not  refuse ;  though  upon  my  word  and  honour  it  made  me 
very  unwell. 

Well,  I  thought  after  all  this  obsequiousness  on  my  part,  and 
my  aunt's  repeated  promises,  that  the  old  lady  would  at  least  make 
me  a  present  of  a  score  of  guineas  (of  which  she  had  a  power  in  the 
drawer) ;  and  so  convinced  was  I  that  some  such  ])resent  was  in- 
tended for  me,  that  a  young  laily  by  the  name  of  Miss  Mary  Smith, 
with  whom  I  had  conversed  on  the  subject,  actually  netted  me  a 
little  green  silk  purse,  which  she  gave  me  (behind  Hicks's  hayrick, 
as  you  turn  to  thv.  right  up  Churchyard  Lane) — which  she  gave  me, 
I  say,  wra])ped  up  in  a  bit  of  silver  paper.  There  was  something 
in  the  purse,  too,  if  the  truth  must  be  known.  First  there  was  a 
thick  curl  of  the  glossiest  blackest  hair  you  ever  saw  in  your  life,  and 
next  there  was  threei)ence :  that  is  to  .say,  the  half  of  a  silver 
sixpence  hanging  by  a  little  necklace  of  blue  riband.  Ah,  but  I 
knew  where  the  other  half  of  the  sixpence  was,  and  envied  that 
happy  bit  of  silver  ! 

The  last  day  of  my  holiday  I  w;\s  obliged,  of  course,  to  devote 
to  Mrs.  Hoggarty.  ]\Iy  aunt  was  excessively  gracious ;  and  by  way 
of  a  treat  brought  out  a  couple  of  bottles  of  the  black  currant,  of 
which  she  made  me  drink  the  greater  part.  At  night  when  all  the 
ladies  assembled  at  her  jiarty  had  gone  ort'  with  their  pattens  and 
their  maids,  Mrs.  Hoggarty,  who  had  made  a  signal  to  me  to  stay, 
first  blew  out  three  of  the  wax  candles  in  the  drawing-room,  and 
taking  the  fourth  in  her  hand,  went  and  unlocked  her  escritoire. 

I  can  tell  you  my  heart  beat,  though  I  pretended  to  look  quite 
unconcerned. 

"  Sam,  my  dear,"  said  she,  as  she  w;is  fumbling  with  her  keys, 
"take  anotlier  ghiss  of  Rosolio  "  (that  Avas  the  name  by  which  she 
baptized  the  cursed  beverage)  :  "  it  will  do  you  good."  I  took  it, 
and  you  might  have  seen  my  hand  tremble  as  the  bottle  went  click 
— click  against  the  glass.  By  the  time  I  had  swallowed  it,  the  old 
lady  had  finished  her  operations  at  the  bureau,  and  was  coming 
towards  me,  the  wax  candle  bobbing  in  one  hand  and  a  large  parcel 
in  the  other. 

"  Now's  the  time,"  thought  I. 

"Samuel,  my  dear  nephew,"  said  she,  "your  first  name  you 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND       5 

received  fi'om  your  sainted  uncle,  my  blessed  husband  ;  and  of  all 
my  nephews  and  nieces,  you  are  the  one  whose  conduct  in  life  has 
most  pleased  me." 

When  you  consider  that  my  aunt  herself  was  one  of  seven 
married  sisters,  that  all  the  Hoggarties  were  married  in  Ireland  and 
mothers  of  numerous  children,  I  must  say  that  the  compliment  my 
aunt  paid  me  was  a  very  handsome  one. 

"Dear  aunt,"  says  I,  in  a  slow  agitated  voice,  "I  have  often 
heard  you  say  there  were  seventy -three  of  us  in  all,  and  believe  me 
I  do  think  your  high  opinion  of  me  very  complimentary  indeed  :  I'm 
unworthy  of  it — indeed  I  am." 

"  As  for  those  odious  Irish  people,"  says  my  aunt,  rather 
sharply,  "  don't  speak  of  them  ;  I  hate  them,  and  every  one  of  their 
n\others  "  (the  fact  is,  there  had  been  a  lawsuit  aliout  Hoggarty's 
property) ;  "  but  of  all  my  other  kindred,  you,  Samuel,  have  l)een 
the  most  dutiful  and  aftectionate  to  me.  Your  employers  in  London 
give  the  best  accounts  of  your  regularity  and  good  conduct.  Though 
you  have  had  eighty  pounds  a  year  (a  liberal  salary),  you  have  not 
spent  a  shilling  more  than  your  income,  as  other  young  men  would ; 
and  you  have  devoted  your  month's  holidays  to  your  old  aunt,  who, 
I  assure  you,  is  grateful." 

"  Oh,  ma'am  ! "  said  I.     It  was  all  that  I  could  utter. 

"  Samuel,"  continued  she,  "  I  promised  you  a  i^resent,  and  here 
it  is.  I  first  thought  of  giving  you  money  ;  but  you  are  a  regular 
lad ;  and  don't  want  it.  You  are  above  money,  dear  Samuel.  I 
give  you  what  I  value  most  in  life — the  p, — the  po,  the  po-ortrait 
of  my  sainted  Hoggarty  "  {tears),  "  set  in  the  locket  which  contains 
the  valuable  diamond  that  you  have  often  heard  me  speak  of.  Wear 
it,  dear  Sam,  for  my  sake ;  and  think  of  that  angel  in  heaven,  and 
of  your  dear  Aunt  Susy." 

She  put  the  machine  into  my  hands :  it  was  about  the  size  of  the 
lid  of  a  shaving-box :  and  I  should  as  soon  have  thought  of  wear- 
ing it  as  of  wearing  a  cocked-hat  and  pigtail.  I  was  so  disgusted 
and  disappointed  that  I  really  could  not  get  out  a  single  word. 

When  I  recovered  my  presence  of  mind  a  little,  I  took  the 
locket  out  of  the  bit  of  ]iaper  (the  locket  indeed  !  it  was  as  liig  as 
a  barndoor  padlock),  and  slowly  put  it  into  my  shirt.  "  Thank 
you,  aunt,"  said  I,  with  admirable  raillery.  "  I  shall  always  value 
this  present  for  the  sake  of  you,  who  gave  it  me ;  and  it  will  recall 
to  me  my  uncle,  and  my  tliirteen  aunts  in  Ireland." 

"  I  don't  want  you  to  wear  it  in  that  way  !  "  shrieked  Mrs. 
Hoggarty,  "with  the  hair  of  those  odious  carroty  women.  You 
must  have  their  hair  removed." 

"  Then  the  locket  will  be  siwiled,  aunt." 


6         THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

"  Well,  sir,  never  mind  the  locket ;  have,  it  set  afresh." 

"  Or  suppose,"  said  I,  "  I  put  aside  the  setting  altogether :  it  is 
a  little  too  large  for  the  present  fashion ;  and  have  the  portrait  of 
my  uncle  framed  and  ])laced  over  my  chimney-piece,  next  to  yours. 
It's  a  sweet  miniature." 

"  That  miniature,"  said  Mrs.  Hoggarty  solemnly,  "  was  the 
great  Midcahy's  chef-d'oeuvre^^  (pronounced  shy  deivver,  a  favourite 
word  of  my  aunt's ;  being,  wuth  the  words  boiuftong  and  ally  mode 
de  Parry,  the  extent  of  her  French  vocabulary).  "  You  know  the 
dreadful  story  of  that  poor  poor  artist.  When  he  had  finished  that 
wonderful  likeness  for  the  late  Mrs.  Hoggarty  of  Castlo  Hoggarty, 
county  Mayo,  she  wore  it  in  her  bosom  at  the  Loril  Lieutenant's 
ball,  where  she  played  a  game  of  piquet  with  the  Commander-m- 
Oliief.  What  could  have  made  her  put  the  hair  of  her  vulg-ar 
daughters  round  Mick's  portrait,  I  cant  think ;  but  so  it  was,  as 
you  see  it  this  day.  'Madam,'  says  the  Commander-in-Chief,  *if 
that  is  not  my  friend  Mick  Hi^ggarty,  I'm  a  Dutchman  ! '  Those 
were  his  Lordshi|)'s  very  words.  Mrs.  Hoggarty  of  Castle  Hoggarty 
took  off  the  brooch  and  showed  it  to  him. 

"  '  Who  is  the  artist  1 '  says  my  Lord.  '  It's  the  most  wonderful 
likeness  I  ever  saw  in  my  life  ! ' 

"  '  Mulcahy,'  says  she,  '  of  Ormond's  Quay.' 

"'Begad,  I  ]iatroni.se  him  I '  sjiys  my  Lord;  but  presently  his 
face  darkened,  and  he  gave  back  the  picture  with  a  dissatisfied  air. 
'There  is  one  fault  in  that  portrait,'  said  his  Lordsliip,  who  was 
a  rigid  disciplinarian  ;  '  and  I  wonder  that  my  friend  Mick,  as  a 
military  man,  should  have  overlooked  it.' 

"  'What's  that?'  says  Mrs.  Hoggarty  of  Castle  Hoggarty. 

"'Madam,  ho  has  been  ])ainted  without  his  sword-belt!' 
And  he  took  up  the  cards  again  in  a  pa.'^sion,  and  finished  the  game 
without  saying  a  single  word. 

"The  news  was  carried  to  Mr.  Mulcahy  the  next  day,  and  that 
unfortunate  artist  went  mad  immediately  !  He  had  set  his  whole 
reputation  upon  tliis  miniature,  and  declared  that  it  should  be  fault- 
less. Such  was  the  effect  of  the  announcement  upon  his  susceptible 
heart  !  When  I\Irs.  Hoggarty  died,  your  uncle  to(jk  the  ]»ortrait 
and  always  wore  it  himself  His  sisters  said  it  was  for  tlie  sake 
of  the  diamond ;  whereas,  ungratefid  things !  it  was  merely  on 
account  of  their  hair,  and  his  love  for  the  fine  arts.  As  for  the 
poor  artist,  my  dear,  some  i)eople  said  it  was  the  profuse  use  of 
spirit  that  brought  on  delirium  tremens ;  but  I  don't  believe  it. 
Take  another  glass  of  Rosolio." 

The  telling  of  this  story  always  put  my  aunt  into  great  good- 
humour,  and  she  promised  at  the  end  of  it  to  pay  for  the  ne\v 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND       7 

setting  of  the  diamond  ;  desirincc  me  to  take  it  on  my  arrival  in 
London  to  tlie  great  jeweller,  I\Ir.  Polonius,  and  send  her  the  bill. 
"  The  fact  is,"  said  she,  "  that  the  goold  in  which  the  thing  is  set 
is  worth  five  guineas  at  the  very  least,  and  you  can  have  the 
diamond  reset  for  two.  However,  keep  the  remainder,  dear  Sam, 
and  buy  yourself  Avhat  you  please  with  it." 

With  this  the  old  lady  bade  me  adieu.  The  clock  was  striking 
twelve  as  I  walked  down  the  village,  for  the  story  of  Mulcahy 
always  took  an  hour  in  the  telling,  and  I  went  away  not  quite  .so 
down-hearted  as  when  the  present  was  first  made  to  me.  "After 
all,"  thought  I,  "a  diamond-pin  is  a  handsome  thing,  and  will  give 
me  a  distingue  air,  though  my  clothes  be  never  so  shabljy  " — and 
shabby  they  were  without  any  doubt.  "  Well,"  I  said,  "  three 
guineas,  which  I  shall  have  over,  will  buy  me  a  couple  of  pairs  of 
what-d'ye-call-'ems ; "  of  which,  entre  nous,  I  was  in  great  want, 
having  just  then  done  growing,  whereas  my  pantaloons  were  made 
a  good  eighteen  months  before. 

Well,  I  walked  down  the  village,  my  hands  in  my  breeches 
pockets ;  I  had  poor  Mary's  purse  there,  having  removed  the  little 
things  which  she  gave  me  the  day  before,  and  placed  them — never 
mind  where :  but  look  you,  in  those  days  I  had  a  heart,  and  a 
warm  one  too.  I  had  Mary's  purse  ready  for  my  aunt's  dona- 
tion, which  never  came,  and  with  my  own  little  stock  of  money 
besides,  that  Mrs.  Hoggarty's  cai'd  parties  had  lessened  by  a  good 
five-and-twenty  shillings,  I  calculated  that,  after  paying  my  lare, 
I  should  get  to  town  with  a  couple  of  seven-shilling  pieces  in  my 


I  walked  down  the  village  at  a  deuce  of  a  pace ;  so  quick  that, 
if  the  tiling  had  been  possible,  I  should  have  overtaken  ten  o'clock 
that  had  passed  by  me  two  hours  ago,  when  I  was  listening  to 
Mrs.  H.'s  long  stories  over  her  terrible  R(jsolio.  The  truth  is,  at 
ten  I  had  an  appointment  under  a  certain  person's  wind(iw,  who 
was  to  have  been  looking  at  the  moon  at  that  hour,  with  her  pretty 
quilled  nightcap  on,  and  her  blessed  hair  in  papers. 

There  was  the  window  shut,  and  not  so  much  as  a  candle  in  it ; 
and  though  I  hemmed  and  hawed,  and  whistled  over  the  garden 
paling,  and  sang  a  song  of  which  Somebody  Avas  very  Ibnd,  and 
even  threw  a  pebble  at  the  window,  which  hit  it  exactly  at  the 
opening  of  the  lattice, — I  woke  no  one  except  a  great  brute  of  a 
house-dog,  that  yelled,  and  howled,  and  bounced  so  at  me  over  the 
rails,  that  I  thought  every  moineiit  he  would  have  had  my  nose 
between  his  teeth. 

So  I  was  obliged  to  go  off  as  quickly  as  might  be ;  and  the  next 
morning  mamma  and  my  sisters  made  breakfast  for  me  at  four,  and 


8         THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

at  five  came  the  "  True  Blue  "  light  six-inside  post-coach  to  London^ 
and  I  got  up  on  the  roof  without  having  seen  Mary  SmitL 

As  we  passed  the  house,  it  did  seem  as  if  the  window  curtain 
in  her  room  was  drawn  aside  just  a  little  bit.  Certainly  the 
window  was  open,  and  it  had  been  shut  the  night  before  :  but  away 
went  the  coach ;  and  the  \-illage,  cottage,  and  the  churchyard,  and 
Hicks's  hayricks  were  soon  out  of  sight. 

• 

"  My  hi,  what  a  pin ! "  said  a  stable-boy,  who  was  smoking  a 
cigar,  to  the  guard,  looking  at  me  and  putting  his  finger  to  his 


nose 


The  fact  is,  that  I  had  never  undressed  since  my  aimt's  party ; 
and  being  uneasy  in  mind  and  having  all  my  clothes  to  pack  up, 
and  thinking  of  something  else,  had  quite  forgotten  Mrs.  Hoggarty's 
brooch,  which  I  had  stuck  into  my  shirt-frill  the  night  before. 


CHAPTER  II 

TELLS  HOW  THE  DL4M0ND  IS  BROUGHT  UP  TO  LONDON,  AND 
PRODUCES  WONDERFUL  EFFECTS  BOTH  IN  THE  CITY  AND 
AT  THE  WEST  END 

THE  circumstances  recorded  in  this  storj'  took  place  some  score 
of  years  ago,  when,  as  the  reader  may  remember,  there  was 
a  great  mania  in  the  City  of  London  for  estabhshing  com- 
panies of  all  sorts ;  by  which  many  people  made  pretty  fortunes. 

I  was  at  this  period,  as  the  truth  must  be  known,  thirteenth 
clerk  of  twenty-four  young  gents  who  did  the  immense  business  of 
the  Independent  West  Diddlesex  Fire  and  Life  Insurance  Company, 
at  their  splendid  stone  mansion  in  Cornhill.  ]\Iamma  had  sunk  a 
sum  of  four  hundred  pounds  in  the  purchase  of  an  annuity  at  this 
office,  which  paid  her  no  less  than  six-and-thirty  pounds  a  year, 
when  no  other  company  in  London  woidd  give  her  more  than 
twenty-foiu".  The  chairman  of  the  director  was  the  great  Mr, 
Brough,  of  the  house  of  Brough  and  Hoff,  Crutched  Friars,  Turkey 
merchants.  It  was  a  new  house,  but  did  a  tremendous  business  in 
the  fig  and  sponge  way,  and  more  in  the  Zante  currant  line  than 
any  other  firm  in  the  City. 

Brough  was  a  great  man  among  the  Dissenting  connection,  and 
you  saw  his  name  for  hundreds  at  the  head  of  every  charitable 
society  patronised  by  those  good  people.  He  had  nine  clerks  residing 
at  his  office  in  Crutched  Friars ;  he  would  not  take  one  without  a 
certificate  from  the  schoolmaster  and  clerg>Tnan  of  his  native  place, 
strongly  vouching  for  his  morals  and  doctrine ;  and  the  places  were 
«o  run  after,  that  he  got  a  premium  of  four  or  five  hundred  pounds 
■with  each  yoimg  gent,  whom  he  made  to  slave  for  ten  hours  a  day, 
and  to  whom  in  compensation  he  taught  all  the  mysteries  of  the 
Turkish  business.  He  was  a  great  man  on  'Change,  too ;  and  our 
young  chaps  used  to  hear  from  the  stockbrokers'  clerks  (we  commonly 
dined  together  at  the  "Cock  and  "Woolpack,"  a  respectable  house, 
where  you  get  a  capital  cut  of  meat,  bread,  vegetables,  cheese,  half 
a  pint  of  porter,  and  a  penny  to  the  waiter,  for  a  shilhng) — the 
yoimg  stockbrokers  used  to  tell  us  of  immense  bargains  in  Spanish, 
Greek,  and  Columbians,  that  Brough  made,     Hoff  had  nothing  to 


lo       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

do  with  them,  but  stopped  at  home  minding  exclusively  the  business 
of  the  house.  He  was  a  young  chap,  very  quiet  and  steady,  of  the 
Quaker  persuasion,  and  had  been  taken  into  partnership  by  Brough 
for  a  matter  of  thirty  thousand  pounds  :  and  a  very  good  bargain 
too.  I  was  told  in  the  strictest  confidence  that  the  house  one  year 
with  another  divided  a  good  scA^en  thousand  pounds :  of  which 
Brough  had  half,  Hoft"  two-sixths,  and  the  other  sixth  went  to  old 
Tudlow,  who  had  been  Mr.  Brough's  clerk  before  the  new  partner- 
ship began.  Tu<llow  always  went  about  very  shabby,  and  we 
thought  him  an  old  miser.  One  of  our  gents,  Bob  Swnnney  by 
name,  used  to  say  that  Tudlow's  share  was  all  nonsense,  and  that 
Brough  had  it  all ;  but  Bob  was  always  too  knowing  by  half,  used 
to  wear  a  green  cutaway  coat,  and  had  his  free  admission  to  Covent 
Garden  Theatre.  He  was  always  talking  down  at  the  shop,  as  we 
called  it  (it  vviisn't  a  shop,  but  as  si)lendid  an  office  as  any  in  Cornhill) 
— he  was  always  talking  about  Vestris  and  Miss  Tree,  and  singing 

"  The  bramble,  the  bramble, 
The  jolly  jolly  bramble  !  " 

one  of  Charles  Kemble's  famous  songs  in  "  Maid  Marian  " ;  a  play 
that  wa.s  all  the  rage  then,  taken  from  a  famous  story-book  by  one 
Peacock,  a  clerk  in  the  India  House;  and  a  precious  good  place 
he  has  too. 

When  Brough  heard  how  Master  Swinney  abused  him,  and  had 
his  admission  to  tlie  theatre,  he  came  one  day  down  to  tlie  office 
where  we  all  were,  four-and-twenty  of  us,  and  made  one  of  the  most 
beautiful  speeches  I  ever  heard  in  my  life.  He  said  that  for  slander 
he  did  not  care,  contmnely  Avas  the  lot  of  every  public  man  who  had 
austere  princi[)les  of  liis  own,  and  acted  by  them  austerely ;  but 
what  he  did  care  for  was  the  character  of  every  single  gentleman 
forming  a  part  of  the  Independent  West  Diddlesex  Association. 
The  welfiire  of  thousands  was  in  their  keeping ;  millions  of  money 
were  daily  passing  tlirougli  their  hands;  the  City~-the  country 
looked  upon  them  for  order,  honesty,  and  good  example.  And  if  he 
found  amongst  those  whom  he  considered  as  his  children — those 
whom  he  loved  as  his  own  flesh  and  blood — that  that  order  was 
(lejiarted  from,  that  that  regularity  was  not  maintained,  that  that 
good  example  was  not  kept  up  (Mr.  B.  always  spoke  in  thi;^ 
em])hatit'  way) --if  he  found  his  children  departing  from  the  wliole- 
sonie  rules  of  morality,  religion,  and  decorum — if  he  found  in  liigh 
or  low — in  the  head  clerk  at  six  hundred  a  year  down  to  the  porter 
who  cleaned  the  stejis — if  he  found  the  slightest  taint  of  dissipation, 
he  would  cast  tlie  oftender  from  him — yea,  though  he  were  his  own 
son,  he  would  cast  him  from  him  ! 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND      ii 

As  he  spoke  this,  Mr.  Brough  burst  into  tears ;  and  we  who 
didn't  know  what  was  coming,  looked  at  each  other  as  ])ale  as 
parsnips :  all  except  Swinney,  who  was  twelfth  clerk,  and  made 
believe  to  whistle.  Wlien  Mr.  B.  had  wiped  his  eyes  and  recovered 
himself,  he  turned  round  ;  and  oh,  how  my  heart  thumped  as  he 
looked  me  ftdl  in  the  face  !  How  it  w^as  relieved,  though,  when  he 
shouted  out  in  a  thundering  voice — ■ 

"  Mr.  Robert  Swinney  !  " 

"  Sir  to  you,"  says  Swinney,  as  cool  as  possible,  and  some  of  the 
chaps  began  to  titter. 

"  Mr.  Swinney  ! "  roared  Brough,  in  a  voice  still  bigger  than 
before,  "  when  you  came  into  this  office — this  fiimily,  sir,  for  such  it 
is,  as  I  am  proud  to  say — you  foimd  three-and-twenty  as  pious  and 
well-regulated  young  men  as  ever  laboureil  together — as  ever  had 
confided  to  them  the  wealth  of  this  mighty  capital  and  fomous 
empire.  You  found,  sir,  sobriety,  regularity,  and  decorum ;  no 
profane  songs  were  uttered  in  this  place  sacred  to — to  business ;  no 
slanders  were  whispered  against  the  heads  of  the  establishment — ■ 
but  over  them  I  jiass :  I  can  aff'ord,  sir,  to  pass  theni  by — no 
worldly  conversation  or  foul  jesting  disturbed  the  attention  of  these 
gentlemen,  or  desecrated  the  peaceful  scene  of  their  labours.  You 
found  Christians  and  gentlemen,  sir  !  " 

"I  paid  for  my  place  like  the  rest,"  said  Swinney.  "Didn't 
my  governor  take  sha 1 " 

"  Silence,  sir !  Your  worthy  father  did  take  shares  in  this 
establishment,  which  will  yield  him  one  day  an  immense  profit. 
He  did  take  shares,  sir,  or  you  never  would  have  been  here.  I 
glory  in  saying  that  every  one  of  my  young  friends  around  me  has  a 
fiither,  a  brotJier,  a  dear  relative  or  friend,  who  is  connected  in  a 
similar  way  with  our  glorious  enterprise ;  and  that  not  one  of  them 
is  there  but  has  an  interest  in  jn-ocuring,  at  a  liberal  commission, 
other  persons  to  join  the  ranks  of  our  Association.  But,  sir,  I  am 
its  chief.  You  will  find,  sir,  your  appointment  signed  by  me ;  and 
in  like  manner,  I,  John  Brough,  annul  it.  Go  from  us,  sir  ! — leave 
us — quit  a  family  that  can  no  longer  receive  you  in  its  bosom  !  Mr. 
Swinney,  I  have  wept — I  have  prayed,  sir,  before  I  came  to  this 
determination  ;  I  have  taken  counsel,  sir,  and  am  resolved.  Depart 
from  out  of  us  I  " 

"  Not  wdthout  three  months'  salary,  though,  Mr.  B.  :  that  cock 
won't  fight !  " 

"  They  shall  be  paid  to  your  father,  sir." 

"  My  father  be  hanged  !  I  tell  you  what,  Brough,  I'm  of  age  : 
and  if  you  don't  pay  me  my  salary,  I'll  arrest  you, — by  Jingo,  I 
will !     I'll  have  you  in  c^uod,  or  my  name's  not  Bob  Swinney  !  " 


12       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

"  Make  out  a  cheque,  Mr.  Roimdhand,  for  the  three  months! 
salary  of  this  perverted  young  man." 

"  Twenty-one  pun'  five,  Roundhand,  and  nothing  for  the  stamip  !  " 
cried  out  that  audacious  S^^'inney.  "  Tliere  it  is,  sir,  ?-e-ceipted. 
You  needn't  cross  it  to  my  banker's.  And  if  any  of  you  gents  like 
a  glass  of  punch  this  evening  at  eight  o'clock,  Bob  Swinney's  your 
man,  and  nothing  to  pay.  If  Mr.  Brough  ironld  do  me  the  honour 
to  come  in  and  take  a  whack?  Come,  don't  say  no,  if  you'd 
rather  not !  " 

We  couldn't  stand  this  impudence,  and  all  burst  out  laughing 
like  mad. 

"  Leave  tlie  room  !  "  yelled  Mr.  Brough,  whose  face  had  turned 
quite  blue ;  and  so  Bob  took  his  white  hat  off  the  peg,  and  strolled 
away  with  his  "  tile,"  as  he  called  it,  very  much  on  one  side.  When 
he  was  gone,  Mr.  Brough  gave  us  another  lecture,  by  which  we  all 
determined  to  profit ;  and  going  up  to  Roundhand's  desk  put  his 
arm  round  his  neck,  and  looked  over  the  leilger. 

"  What  money  has  been  paid  in  to-day,  Roundhand  1 "  he  said, 
in  a  very  kind  way. 

"  The  widow,  sir,  came  with  her  money ;  nine  lumdred  and 
four  ten  and  six — .say  £904,  10s.  6d.  Captain  Sparr,  sir,  i)aid  his 
shares  up  ;  grumbles,  though,  and  says  he's  no  more  :  fifty  shares, 
two  iiistalnit'uts — three  fifties,  sir." 

"  He's  always  gnunbling  !  " 

"  He  says  he  has  not  a  shilling  to  bless  himself  with  until  our 
dividend  day." 

"  Any  more  ? " 

Mr.  Roundhand  went  tlirough  the  book,  and  made  it  up  nineteen 
luindrod  jxiiuids  in  all.  We  wore  doing  a  famous  business  now  : 
though  when  I  came  into  the  office,  we  uscil  to  sit,  and  laugh,  and 
joke,  and  read  the  newspapers  all  day  ;  bustling  into  our  seats 
whenever  a  stray  customer  came.  Brough  never  cared  alxiut  our 
laughing  and  singing  then,  and  was  hand  and  glove  with  Bob 
Swinney ;  but  that  was  in  early  times,  before  we  were  well  in 
harness. 

"  Nineteen  hundred  pounds,  and  a  thousand  pounds  in  shares. 
Bravo,  Roundhand  — bravo,  gentlemen  !  Remember,  every  share 
you  bring  in  brings  you  five  per  cent,  dowm  on  the  nail !  Look 
to  your  friends — stick  to  your  desks — be  regular — I  hope  none 
of  you  forget  church.     Who  takes  Mr.  Swinney's  place  1" 

"  Mr.  Samuel  Titmarsh,  sir." 

"  Mr.  Titmarsh,  I  congratvdate  you.  Give  me  your  hand,  sir  : 
you  are  now  twelfth  clerk  of  this  Association,  and  your  salary  is 
consequently  increased  five  pounds  a  year.     How  is  your  worthy 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND      13 

mother,  sir — your  dear  and  excellent  parent?  In  good  health,  I 
trust  ?  And  long — long,  I  fervently  pray,  may  this  office  continue 
to  pay  her  annuity  !  Remember,  if  she  has  more  money  to  lay  out, 
there  is  higher  interest  than  the  last  for  her,  for  she  is  a  year  older ; 
and  five  per  cent,  for  you,  my  boy  !  Why  not  you  as  well  as 
another  1  Yomig  men  will  be  young  men,  and  a  ten-pound  note 
does  no  harm.     Does  it,  Mr.  Abednego  1 " 

"  Oh  no ! "  says  Abednego,  who»was  third  clerk,  and  who  was 
the  chap  tliat  informed  against  Swinney ;  and  he  began  to  laugh,  as 
indeed  we  all  did  whenever  Mr.  Brough  made  anything  like  a  joke  : 
not  that  they  were  jokes ;  only  we  used  to  know  it  by  his  face. 

"Oh,  by-the-bye,  Roundhand,"  says  he,  "a  word  with  you  on 
business.  Mrs.  Brough  »wants  to  know  why  the  deuce  you  never 
come  down  to  Fulhani." 

"  Law,  that's  very  polite  ! "  said  Mr.  Roundhand,  quite  pleased. 

"  Name  your  day,  my  boy  !  Say  Saturday,  and  bring  your  night- 
cap with  you." 

"  You're  very  polite,  I'm  sure.  I  shoidd  be  delighted  beyond 
anything,  but " 

"  But — no  buts,  my  boy  !  Hark  ye  !  the  Chancellor  of  tlie 
Exchequer  does  me  the  honour  to  dine  with  us,  and  I  want  you  to 
see  him ;  for  the  truth  is,  I  have  bragged  about  you  to  his  Lordship 
as  tlie  best  actuary  in  the  three  kingdoms." 

Roundhand  could  not  refuse  such  an  invitation  as  that,  though 
he  had  told  us  how  j\Ir.s.  R.  and  he  were  going  to  pass  Saturday  and 
Sunday  at  Putney ;  and  we  who  knew  what  a  Hfe  the  poor  fellow 
led,  were  sure  that  the  head  clerk  Avould  be  prettily  scolded  by  his 
lady  when  she  heard  what  was  going  on.  She  disliked  Mrs.  Brough 
very  much,  that  was  tlie  fact ;  because  Mrs.  B.  kept  a  carriage, 
and  said  she  didn't  know  where  Pentonville  was,  and  couldn't  call  on 
JNIrs.  Roundhand.  Though,  to  be  sure,  her  coachman  might  have 
found  out  the  way. 

"  And  oh,  Roundhand  !  "  continued  our  governor,  "  draw  a  cheque 
for  seven  hundred,  will  you  !  Come,  don't  stare,  man  ;  I'm  not  going 
to  run  away  !  That's  right, — seven  hundred — and  ninety,  say,  while 
you're  about  it !  Our  board  meets  on  Saturday,  and  never  fear  I'll 
account  for  it  to  them  before  I  drive  you  down.  We  shall  take  up 
the  Chancellor  at  Whitehall." 

So  saying,  Mr.  Brough  folded  up  the  cheque,  and  shaking  hands 
vrith  Mr.  Roundhand  very  cordially,  got  into  his  carriage-and-four 
(he  always  drove  four  horses  even  in  the  City,  where  it's  so  difficult), 
which  was  waiting  at  the  office-door  for  him. 

Bob  Swinney  used  to  say  that  he  charged  two  of  the  horses  to 
the  Company ;  but  there  was  never  believing  half  of  what  that  Bob 
4 


14      THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

said,  he  used  to  laugh  and  joke  so.  I  don't  know  how  it  was,  but 
I  and  a  gent  by  the  name  of  Hoskins  (eleventh  clerk),  who  lived 
together  with  me  in  Salisbury  Square,  Fleet  Street  ■ —  where  we 
occupied  a  very  genteel  t^\'o-pair — founil  our  flute  duet  rather  tire- 
some that  evening,  and  as  it  was  a  very  fine  night,  strolled  out  for 
a  walk  West  End  way.  When  we  arrived  opposite  Covent  Garden 
Theatre  we  found  ourselves  close  to  tlie  "  Globe  Tavern,"  and  recol- 
lected Bob  Swinncy's  hospitabloi  invitation.  We  never  fancied  that 
he  liad  meant  the  invitation  in  earnest,  but  thought  we  might  as 
well  look  in  :  at  any  rate  tlicre  could  lie  no  harm  in  doing  so. 

Tliere,  to  be  sure,  in  the  back  drawing-room,  where  he  said  he 
would  be,  we  found  Bob  at  the  head  of  a  table,  and  in  the  midst  of 
a  gi'eat  smoke  of  cigars,  and  eighteen  of  ourtgents  rattling  and  bang- 
ing away  at  the  tal)le  Mith  the  bottoms  of  their  glasses. 

What  a  shout  they  made  a.s  we  came  iu  !  "  Hurray  !  "  says  Bob, 
"  here's  two  more  !  Two  more  chairs,  Mary,  two  more  tumblers, 
two  more  hot  waters,  and  two  more  goes  of  gin  !  Who  would  have 
thought  of  seeing  Tit,  in  the  name  of  goodness  1 " 

"  Why,"  said  I,  "  we  oidy  came  in  by  the  merest  chance." 

At  this  Avord  there  Wiis  another  tremendous  roar  :  and  it  is  a 
positive  fact,  that  every  man  of  the  eighteen  had  said  he  came  Ity 
chance!  However,  chance  gave  us  a  very  jovial  niglit ;  and  tliat 
hospitable  Bob  Swiuuey  paid  every  shilling  of  the  score. 

"Gentlemen!"  says  he,  a.s  he  jiaid  tiie  bill,  "I'll  give  you  the 
heiilth  of  John  Brough,  Esijuire,  and  thanks  to  him  for  the  present 
of  £2\,  5s.  which  he  made  me  this  morning.  What  do  I  say — 
£21,  5s.  ?  That  and  a  montii's  salary  that  I  should  have  had  to 
pay — forfeit  -  down  on  the  nail,  Viy  Jingo!  for  leaving  the  shop,  as 
I  intended  to  do  to-morrow  morning.  I've  got  a  i)lace — a  tiptop 
place,  I  tell  you.  Five  guineas  a  week,  six  jouraeys  a  year,  my 
own  liorse  and  gig,  and  to  travel  in  the  West  of  England  in  oil  and 
spermaceti.  Here's  confusion  to  ga.s,  and  the  health  of  Messrs, 
Gaiin  &  Co.,  of  Thames  Street,  in  the  City  of  London  ! " 

I  have  been  thus  jiarticular  in  my  account  of  the  West  Diddlesex 
Insurance  OtHce,  and  of  Mr.  Brough,  the  managing  director  (thoui,di 
the  real  names  are  neitlier  given  to  the  othce  nor  to  tiie  chairman, 
as  you  may  be  sure),  because  the  fate  of  me  and  my  diamond  pin 
was  mysteriously  boimd  u])  with  both  :  a.s  I  am  about  to  show. 

You  must  know  that  I  was  rather  res])ected  among  our  gents 
at  the  West  Liddlesex,  because  I  came  of  a  better  family  than  mo.st 
of  them  ;  had  received  a  classical  education ;  and  especially  because 
I  had  a  rich  aunt,  Mrs.  Hoggarty,  about  whom,  as  must  be  con- 
fessed, I  used  to  boast  a  good  deal.  There  is  no  harm  in  being 
respected   in   this  world,  as  I  have  found  out ;  and   if  you   dont 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY   DIAMOND     15 

brag  a  little  for  yourself,  depend  on  it  there  is  no  person  of  your 
acquaintance  who  'nill  tell  the  world  of  yoiu-  merits,  and  take  the 
trouble  off  your  hands. 

So  that  wlien  I  came  back  to  the  office  after  my  visit  at  home, 
and  took  my  seat  at  the  old  day-book  opposite  the  dingy  window 
that  looks  into  Birchin  Lane,  I  jtretty  soon  let  the  fellows  know 
that  Mrs.  Hoggarty,  though  she  had  not  given  me  a  large  sum  of 
n^oney,  as  I  expected — indeed,  I  had  iiromised  a  dozen  of  them  a 
treat  down  the  river,  should  the  promised  riches  have  come  to  me 
• — I  let  them  know,  I  say,  that  thoui^h  my  aunt  had  not  given  me 
any  money,  she  had  given  me  a  splendid  diamond,  worth  at  least 
thirty  guineas,  and  that  some  day  I  would  sport  it  at  the  shop. 

"  Oh,  let's  see  it ! "  says  Abcdnego,  whose  father  was  a  mock- 
jewel  and  gold-lace  merchant  in  Hanway  Yard ;  and  I  promised 
that  he  should  have  a  sight  of  it  as  soon  as  it  was  set.  As  my 
pocket-money  was  run  out  too  (by  coach-hire  to  and  from  home, 
five  shillings  to  our  maid  at  home,  ten  to  my  aunt's  maid  and  man, 
five-aud-twenty  shillings  lost  at  whist,  as  I  said,  and  fifteen-and-six 
paid  for  a  silver  scissors  for  the  dear  little  fingers  of  Somel)ody), 
Roundhand,  who  was  very  good-natured,  asked  me  to  dine,  and 
advanciid  me  £7,  Is.  8d.,  a  month's  salary.  It  was  at  Roundhand's 
house,  Myddelton  Square,  Pentnnville,  over  a  fillet  of  veal  and 
bacon  and  a  glass  of  port,  that  I  learned  and  saw  how  his  wife 
ill-treated  him ;  as  I  liave  told  l)efore.  Poor  fellow  ! — we  under- 
clerks  all  thought  it  was  a  fine  tiling  to  sit  at  a  desk  by  one's  self, 
and  have  £50  per  month,  as  Roundhand  had ;  but  I've  a  notion 
that  Hoskins  and  I,  blowing  duets  on  the  flute  together  in  our 
second  floor  in  Salisbury  Square,  were  a  great  deal  more  at  ease 
than  our  head — and  more  in  kariiioity,  too ;  though  we  made  sad 
work  of  the  music,  certainly. 

One  day  Gus  Hoskins  and  I  asked  leave  from  Roundhand  to  be 
ott'  at  three  o'clock,  as  we  had  particular  business  at  the  West  Entl. 
He  knew  it  was  about  the  gi-eat  Hoggarty  diamond,  and  gave  us 
permission ;  so  off"  we  set.  When  Ave  reached  St.  Martin's  Lane, 
Gus  got  a  cigar,  to  give  himself  as  it  were  a  distiiujue  air,  and 
putted  at  it  all  the  way  up  the  Lane,  and  through  the  alleys  into 
Coventry  Street,  where  Mr.  Polonius's  shop  is,  as  everybody  knows. 

The  door  was  open,  and  a  number  of  carriages  full  of  ladies  were 
drawing  up  and  setting  down.  (Jus  kept  liis  hands  in  his  pockets 
— trousers  were  worn  very  full  then,  with  large  tucks,  and  pigeon- 
holes for  your  boots,  or  Bluchers,  to  come  through  (the  fashionables 
wore  boots,  but  we  chaps  in  the  City,  on  £80  a  year,  contented 
ourselves  with  Bluchers) ;  and  as  Gus  stretched  out  his  pantaloons 
as  wide  as  he  could  from  his  hips,  and  kept  blowing  away  at  his 


i6       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

cheroot,  and  clamping  with  the  iron  heels  of  his  boots,  and  had 
very  large  whiskers  for  so  young  a  man,  he  really  looked  quite  the 
genteel  tiling,  and  was  taken  by  everybody  to  be  a  person  of 
consideration. 

He  would  not  come  into  the  shop  though,  but  stood  staring 
at  the  gold  pots  and  kettles  in  the  window  outside.  I  went  in ; 
and  after  a  little  hemming  and  hawing — for  I  had  never  been  at 
such  a  fashionable  place  before — asked  one  of  the  gentlemen  to  let 
me  speak  to  Mr.  Polonius. 

"  What  can  I  do  for  you,  sir  ? "  says  Mr.  Polonius,  who  was 
standing  close  by,  as  it  happened,  serving  three  ladies, — a  very  old 
one  and  two  yoiuig  ones,  who  were  examining  pearl  necklaces  very 
attentively. 

"  Sir,"  said  I,  producing  my  jewel  out  of  my  coat-jxtcket,  "  this 
jewel  has,  I  believe,  been  in  yoiu*  house  before :  it  belonged  to  my 
aunt,  Mrs.  Hoggarty  of  Castle  Hoggarty."  The  old  lady  standing 
near  looked  round  as  I  spoke. 

"I  s(»ld  her  a  guld  ncck-chaii'  and  repeating  watch  in  the  year 
1795,"  said  Mr.  Polonius,  who  made  it  a  point  to  recollect  every- 
thing; "and  a  silver  punch-ladle  to  the  Captain.  How  is  the 
Major — Colonel — General — eh,  sir?  " 

"The  General,"  said  I,  "I  am  soiTy  to  say" — though  I  was 
fjuite  proud  that  this  man  of  fashion  should  address  me  so — "  Mr. 
Hoggarty  is — no  more.  My  aunt  has  made  me  a  i)resent,  however, 
of  this — this  trinket — which,  as  you  see,  contains  her  husltands 
portrait,  that  I  will  thank  you,  sir,  to  preserve  for  me  very  carefully ; 
and  she  wishes  that  you  would  set  this  diamond  neatly." 

"  Neatly  and  handsomely,  of  course,  sir." 

"  Neatly,  in  the  present  fiushion ;  and  send  down  the  account 
to  her.  There  is  a  great  deal  of  gold  about  the  trinket,  for  which, 
of  course,  you  Avill  make  an  allowance." 

"  To  the  liust  fraition  of  a  sixpence,"  Siiys  Mr.  Polonius,  bowing, 
and  looking  at  the  jewel.  "  It's  a  wonderful  piece  of  goods, 
certainly,"  said  he ;  "  though  the  diamond's  a  neat  little  bit, 
certainly.  Do,  my  Lady,  look  at  it.  The  thing  is  of  Irish  manii- 
facture,  bears  the  stamp  of  '95,  and  will  recall  perhaps  the  times  of 
yoiu:  Ladyship's  e;irliest  youth." 

"Get  ye  out,  Mr.  Polonius!"  said  the  old  lady,  a  little  wizen- 
faced  old  lady,  with  her  face  |Hickered  up  in  a  million  of  ^^Tinkles. 
"  How  dar  you,  sir,  to  t^dk  such  nonsense  to  an  old  woman  like 
me?  Wasn't  I  fifty  years  old  in  '95,  and  a  grandmother  in  '96?" 
She  put  out  a  ])air  of  withered  trembling  hands,  took  up  the  locket, 
examined  it  for  a  minute,  and  then  burst  out  laughing :  "  As  I  hve, 
it's  the  great  Hoggarty  diamond  1 " 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     17 

Good  heavens  !  what  was  this  talisman  that  had  come  into  my 
possession  1 

"  Look,  girls,"  continued  the  old  lady :  "  this  is  the  great  jew'l 
of  all  Ireland.  This  red-faced  man  in  the  middle  is  poor  Mick 
Hoggarty,  a  cousin  of  mine,  who  was  in  love  witli  me  in  the  year 
'84,  when  I  had  just  lost  your  poor  dear  grandpapa.  These  thirteen 
sthreamers  of  red  hair  represent  his  thirteen  celebrated  sisters, — 
Biddy,  Minny,  Thedy,  Widdy  (short  for  Williamina),  Freddy,  Izzy, 
Tizzy,  Mysie,  Grizzy,  Polly,  Dolly,  Nell,  and  Bell — all  married,  all 
ugly,  and  all  carr'ty  hair.  And  of  which  are  you  the  son,  young 
man  ? — though,  to  do  you  justice,  you're  not  like  the  family." 

Two  pretty  young  ladies  turned  two  pretty  pairs  of  black  eyes 
at  me,  and  waited  for  an  answer :  which  they  Avould  have  had,  only 
the  old  lady  began  rattling  on  a  hundred  stories  about  the  thirteen 
ladies  above  named,  and  all  their  lovers,  all  their  disappointments, 
and  all  the  duels  of  Mick  Hoggarty.  She  was  a  chronicle  of  fifty- 
years-old  scandal.  At  last  she  was  interrupted  by  a  violent  fit  of 
coughing  ;  at  the  conclusion  of  wl.ich  Mr.  Polonius  very  respectfully 
asked  me  where  he  should  send  the  pin,  and  whether  I  would  like 
the  hair  kept. 

"  No,"  says  I,  "  never  mind  the  hair." 

"And  the  pin,  sirT' 

I  had  felt  ashamed  about  telling  my  addi-ess  :  "  But,  hang  it !  " 
thought  I,  "  why  should  1 1 — 

•  A  king  can  make  a  belted  knight, 
A  marquess,  duke,  and  a'  that ; 
An  honest  man's  abune  his  might— 
Gude  faith,  he  canna  fa'  that.' 

Why  need  I  care  about  telling  these  ladies  where  I  live  ? " 

"Sir,"  says  I,  "have  the  goodness  to  send  the  parcel,  when 
done,  to  Mr.  Titmarsh,  No.  3  Bell  Lane,  Salisbury  Square,  near 
St.  Bride's  Church,  Fleet  Street.  Ring,  if  you  please,  the  two- 
pair  bell." 

"  What,  sir  1 "  said  Mr.  Polonius. 

"Hivat!"  shrieked  the  old  lady.  "Mr.  Hwat?  Mais,  ma 
chbre,  c'est  impayable.  Come  along— here's  the  carr'age !  Give 
me  your  arm,  Mr.  Hwat,  and  get  inside,  and  tell  me  all  about  your 
thirteen  aunts." 

She  seized  on  my  elbow  and  hobbled  through  the  shop  as  fast 
as  possible  ;  the  young  ladies  following  her,  laughing. 

"Now,  jump  in,  do  you  hear?"  said  she,  pokmg  her  sharp 
nose  out  of  the  window. 

"  I  can't,  ma'am,"  says  I ;  "  I  have  a  friend." 


i8       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

"Pooh,  pooh!  send  'um  to  the  juice,  and  jump  in!"  And 
before  ahnost  I  could  say  a  word,  a  great  powdered  fellow  in  yeUow- 
plush  breeches  pushed  me  up  the  steps  and  banged  the  door  to. 

I  looked  just  for  one  minute  as  the  barouche  drove  away  at 
Hoskins,  and  never  shall  forget  his  figure.  There  stood  Gus,  his 
mouth  wide  open,  his  eyes  staring,  a  smoking  cheroot  in  his  hand, 
wondering  -mih  all  his  might  at  the  strange  thing  that  had  just 
happened  to  me. 

"  Who  is  that  Titmarsh  ? "  says  Gus  :  "  there's  a  coronet  on  the 
carriage,  by  Jingo  ! " 


CHAPTER   III 

HOIF  THE  POSSESSOR  OF  THE  DIAMOND  IS  WHISKED  INTO  A 
MAGNIFICENT  CHARIOT,  AND  HAS  YET  FURTHER  GOOD 
LUCK 

I  SAT  on  the  back  seat  of  the  carriage,  near  a  very  nice  young 
lady,  about  my  dear  Mary's  age — that  is  to  say,  seventeen  and 
three-quarters ;  and  opjiosite  us  sat  the  old  Countess  and  her 
other  granddaughter — handsome  too,  but  ten  years  older.  I  re- 
collect I  had  on  that  day  my  blue  coat  and  brass  buttons,  nankeen 
trousers,  a  white  sprig  waistcoat,  and  one  of  Dando's  silk  hats,  that 
had  just  come  in  in  the  year  '22,  and  looked  a  great  deal  more 
glossy  than  the  best  Ijcaver. 

"And  who  was  that  hidjus  manster" — that  was  the  way  her 
Ladyship  jjronounced, — "that  ojous  vulgar  wretch,  with  the  iron 
heels  to  his  boots,  and  the  big  mouth,  and  the  imitation  goold  neck- 
chain,  who  steered  at  us  so  as  we  got  into  the  carr'age  1  " 

How  she  should  have  known  that  Gus's  chain  was  mosaic,  I 
can't  tell ;  but  so  it  was,  and  we  had  Iwuglit  it  for  five-and-twenty 
and  sixpence  only  the  week  before  at  M'Phail's,  in  St.  Paul's 
Churchyard.  But  I  did  not  like  to  hear  my  friend  abused,  and  so 
si)oke  out  for  him — 

"  Ma'am,"  says  I,  "  that  young  gentleman's  name  is  Augustus 
Hoskins.  We  live  together;  and  a  better  or  more  kind-hearted 
fellow  does  not  exist." 

"You  are  quite  right  to  stand  up  for  your  friends,  sir,"  said 
the  second  lady  ;  whose  name,  it  appears,  wtis  Lady  Jane,  but 
whom  the  grandmamma  called  Lady  Jene. 

"Well,  upon  me  canscience,  so  he  is  now.  Lady  Jene;  and 
T  like  sper't  in  a  young  man.  So  his  name  is  Hoskins,  is  if?  I 
know,  my  dears,  all  the  Hoskinses  in  England.  There  are  the 
Lincolnshire  Hoskinses,  the  Shropshire  Hoskinses :  they  say  the 
Admiral's  daughter,  Bell,  was  in  love  with  a  black  footman,  or 
boatswain,  or  some  such  thing ;  but  the  world's  so  censorious. 
There's  old  Doctor  Hoskins  of  Bath,  who  attended  poor  dear  Drum 
in  the  quinsy  ;  and  poor  dear  old  Fred  Hoskins,  the  gouty  General : 
X  remember  him  as  thin  as  a  lath  in  the  year  '84,  and  as  active 


20       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

as  a  harlequin,   and  in  love  with  me — oh,   how  he  was  in  love 
with  me  ! " 

"You  seem  to  have  had  a  host  of  admirers  in  those  davs, 
grandmamma  ? "  said  Lady  Jane. 

"  Hundreds,  my  dear, — hundreds  of  thousands.  I  was  the  toast 
of  Bath,  and  a  great  beauty,  too :  Avould  you  ever  have  thought 
it  now,  upon  your  conscience  and  without  flattery,  Mr.-a-AVhat-d'ye- 
call-'im  1 " 

"  Indeed,  ma'am,  I  never  should,"  I  answered,  for  the  old  lady 
was  as  ugly  as  possible ;  and  at  my  saying  this  the  two  young 
ladies  began  screaming  with  laughter,  and  I  saw  the  two  great- 
whiskered  footmen  grinning  over  the  back  i»f  the  carriage. 

"  Upon  my  word,  you're  mighty  candiil,  Mr.  What's-your-name 
— mighty  candid  indeed ;  but  I  like  candour  in  yoimg  people. 
But  a  Ijeauty  I  wa.s.  Just  ask  your  friend's  uncle  the  General. 
He's  one  of  the  Lincolnshire  Hoskinses — I  knew  he  wjis  by  the 
strong  family  likeness.  Is  he  the  cMcst  son  1  It's  a  pretty  property, 
though  sadly  encuml)ored  ;  for  old  Sir  George  was  the  diwle  of 
a  man — a  friend  of  Hanbury  Williams,  and  Lyttlcton,  antl  those 
horrid,  monstrou.s,  ojous  i)Coi)lc  !  How  umch  will  he  have  now, 
mister,  when  the  Admiral  dies?" 

"  Why,  ma'am,  I  can't  say ;  but  the  Admiral  is  not  my  friend's 
father." 

"Not  his  father? — but  he  is,  1  tell  you,  anil  I'm  never  wrong. 
Who  is  his  father,  then  ? " 

"Ma'am,  Gus's  father's  a  leatherseller  in  Skinner  Street,  Snow 
Hill — a  very  respectable  house,  ma'am.  But  Gus  is  only  third 
son,  and  so  can't  expect  a  great  share  in  the  [troperty." 

The  two  young  ladies  smiled  at  this — the  old  lady  said  "Hwat?" 

"I  like  you,  sir,"  Lady  Jane  said,  "for  not  being  ashamed  of 
your  friends,  whatever  their  rank  of  life  may  be.  Shall  we  have 
the  pleasure  of  setting  you  down  an^'wherc,  Mr.  Titmarsh  1 " 

"  Noways  particular,  my  La<ly,"  says  I.  "  We  have  a  holiday 
at  our  office  to-<lay — at  least  Roundhand  gave  me  and  Gus  leave ; 
and  I  shall  be  very  happy,  indeed,  to  take  a  drive  in  the  Park, 
if  it's  no  offence." 

"  I'm  sure  it  will  give  us — infinite  pleasure,"  said  Lady  Jane ; 
though  rather  in  a  grave  way. 

"  Oh,  that  it  will ! "  sjxys  Lady  Fanny,  clapping  her  hands : 
"won't  it,  grandmamma?  And  after  we  have  been  in  the  Park, 
we  can  walk  in  Kensington  Gardens,  if  INIr.  Titmarsh  will  be  good 
enough  to  accompany  us." 

"  Indeed,  Fanny,  we  will  do  no  such  thing,"  says  La<ly  Jane. 

*'  Indeed,   but  we   will,   though  ! "  shrieked  out  Lady  Drum 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY   DIAMOND     21 

•'Ain't  I  (lying  to  know  everything  about  his  uncle  and  thirteen 
aunts?  and  you're  all  chattering  so,  you  young  women,  that  not 
a  blessed  syllable  will  you  allow  me  or  my  young  friend  here  to 
speak." 

Lady  Jane  gave  a  shrug  with  her  shoulders,  and  did  not  say 
a  single  word  more.  Lady  Fanny,  who  was  as  gay  as  a  young 
kitten  (if  I  may  be  allowed  so  to  speak  of  the  aristocracy),  lauglied, 
and  bluslied,  and  giggled,  and  seemed  quite  to  enjoy  her  sister's 
ill-lmmour.  And  the  Countess  began  at  once,  and  entered  into 
the  history  of  the  thirteen  Misses  Hoggarty,  which  was  not  near 
finished  when  we  entered  the  Park. 

When  there,  you  can't  think  what  hundreds  of  gents  on  horse- 
back came  to  the  carriage  and  talked  to  the  ladies.  They  had  their 
joke  for  Lady  Drum,  who  seemed  to  be  a  character  in  her  way ; 
their  bow  for  Lady  Jane;  and,  the  young  ones  especially,  their 
compliment  for  Lady  Fanny. 

Though  she  bowed  and  blushed,  as  a  young  lady  should,  Lady 
Fanny  seemed  to  be  thinking  of  something  else ;  for  she  kept  her 
head  out  of  the  carriage,  looking  eagerly  among  the  horsemen,  as  if 
she  expected  to  see  somebody.  Aha !  my  Lady  Fanny,  /  knew 
what  it  meant  when  a  young  pretty  lady  like  you  was  absent, 
and  on  the  look-out,  and  only  half  answered  the  questions  put  to 
her.  Let  alone  Bam  Titmarsli — he  knows  Avhat  Somebody  means 
as  well  as  another,  I  warrant.  As  I  saw  these  manoeuvres  going 
on,  I  could  not  help  just  giving  a  wink  to  Lady  Jane,  as  nuich 
as  to  say  I  knew  what  was  what.  "  I  guess  the  young  lady  is 
looking  for  Somebody,"  says  L  It  was  then  hei'  turn  to  look 
queer,  I  assure  you,  and  she  blushed  as  red  as  scarlet;  but  after 
a  minute,  the  good-natured  little  thing  looked  at  her  sister,  and 
both  the  young  ladies  put  their  handkerchiefs  up  to  their  faces, 
and  began  laughing — laughing  as  if  I  had  said  the  funniest  thing  in 
the  world. 

"  II  est  charmant,  votre  monsieur."  said  Lady  Jane  to  her  grand- 
mamma; and  on  which  I  bowed,  and  said,  "Madame,  vous  me  faites 
beaucou])  d'honneur : "  for  I  know  the  French  language,  and  was 
pleased  to  find  that  these  good  ladies  had  taken  a  liking  to  me.  "I'm 
a  poor  humble  lad,  ma'am,  not  used  to  London  society,  and  do  really 
feel  it  quite  kind  of  you  to  take  me  by  the  hand  so,  and  give  me  a 
drive  in  your  fine  carriage." 

At  this  minute  a  gentleman  on  a  black  horse,  with  a  pale  face 
and  a  tuft  to  his  chin,  came  riding  up  to  the  carriage ;  and  I  knew 
by  a  little  start  that  Lady  Fanny  gave,  and  by  her  instantly  looking 
round  the  other  way,  that  Somebody  was  come  at  last. 

"  Lady  Drum,"  said  he,  *'  your  most  devoted  servant !     I  have 


22       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

just  been  ridiiij^  with  a  gentleman  who  ahnost  shot  himself  for  love 
of  the  beautiful  Countess  of  Drum  in  the  year — never  mind  the 
year." 

"  Was  it  Killblazes  1 "  said  the  lady :  "  he's  a  dear  old  man, 
and  I'm  quite  ready  to  go  ofi"  with  him  this  minute.  Or  was  it 
that  delight  of  an  old  bishop  1  He's  got  a  lock  of  my  hair  now 
—I  gave  it  him  when  he  was  papa's  chaplain ;  and  let  me  tell 
you  it  would  be  a  hard  matter  to  find  another  now  in  the  same 
place." 

"  Law,  my  Lady  !  "  says  I,  "you  don't  say  so?" 

"  But  indeed  I  do,  my  good  sir,"  says  she ;  "  for  between 
ourselves,  my  head's  as  bare  as  a  cannon  ball — a.sk  Faiuiy  if 
it  isn't.  Such  a  fright  as  the  poor  thing  got  when  she  was  a 
babby,  and  came  upon  me  suddenly  in  my  dressing-room  without 
my  wig ! " 

"  I  hojjc  La<ly  Fanny  has  recovered  from  the  shock,"  said 
*'  Somebody,"  looking  tii"st  at  her,  and  then  at  me  iis  if  he  had  a 
mind  to  swallow  me.  And  would  j'ou  believe  it?  all  that  Lady 
Fanny  could  say  was,  "  Pretty  well,  I  thank  you,  my  Lord  " ;  and 
she  said  this  with  as  much  fluttering  and  blusliing  as  we  used  to 
say  our  Virgil  at  school — when  we  hadn't  learned  it. 

My  Lord  still  kept  on  looking  very  fiercely  at  me,  and  muttered 
something  about  having  hoped  to  find  a  seat  in  Lady  Drums 
carriage,  as  he  was  tired  of  riding ;  on  wliich  Lady  Faimy  muttered 
something,  too,  about  a  "  friend  of  grandmamma's." 

"You  should  say  a  friend  of  yours,  Fanny,"  says  Lady  Jane: 
"  I  am  sure  we  shmild  never  have  come  to  tlie  Park  if  Fanny  had 
not  insisted  tijion  bringing  Mr.  Titiiiarsh  hither.  Let  me  introduce 
the  E;irl  of  Tiptofi"  to  Mr.  Titmarsh."  But  instead  of  taking  oflF 
his  hat,  as  I  did  mine,  his  Lonlsliip  gi-owled  out  that  he  h(>])ed  for 
another  opportunity,  and  gall()i)t'd  ofl"  again  on  his  black  horse. 
Wliy  the  deuce  /  should  have  ofl'ended  him  I  never  could  under- 
stand. 

But  it  seemed  as  if  I  wa.s  destined  to  offend  all  the  men  that 
day  ;  for  who  should  presently  come  up  but  the  Right  Honourable 
Edmund  Preston,  one  of  His  Majesty's  Secretixries  of  State  (as  I 
knew  very  well  by  the  almanac  in  our  oftice)  and  the  husband  of 
Lady  Jane  1 

The  Right  Honourable  Edmund  wiw  riding  a  grey  cob,  and  was 
a  fat  pale-faced  man,  who  looked  as  if  he  never  went  into  the  open 
air.  "  Who  the  devil's  that  1 "  said  he  to  bis  wife,  looking  surlily 
both  at  me  and  her. 

"  Oh,  it's  a  friend  of  gi-andmamma's  and  Jane's,"  said  Lady 
Fanny  at  once,  looking,  like  a  sly  rogue  as  she  was,  quite  archly  at 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     23 

her  sister — who  in  her  turn  appeared  (jiiite  friglitened,  and  lodkod 
imploiingly  at  her  sister,  and  never  dared  to  breathe  a  syUalile. 
"  Yes,  indeed,"  continued  Lady  Fanny,  "  Mr.  Titniarsh  is  a  cousin 
of  grandmamma's  by  the  mother's  si(h' :  l)y  tlie  Hoggarty  side. 
Didn't  you  know  the  Hoggarties  wlien  you  were  in  Ireland,  Echnund, 
with  Lord  Bagwig?  Let  nie  introduce  you  to  grandmamma's 
cousin,  Mr,  Titmarsh :  Mr.  Titmarsh,  my  brother,  Mr.  Edmimd 
Preston." 

There  M^as  Lady  Jane  all  the  time  treading  upon  her  sister's 
foot  as  hard  as  possible,  and  the  little  wicked  thing  would  take  no 
notice ;  and  I,  who  had  never  heard  of  the  cousinshiiJ,  feeling  as 
confounded  as  could  be.  But  I  did  not  know  the  Countess  of 
Drum  near  so  well  as  that  sly  minx  her  granddaughter  did  ;  for 
the  old  lady,  who  had  just  before  called  poor  Gus  Hoskins  her 
cousin,  had,  it  appeared,  the  mania  of  fancying  all  the  world  related 
to  her,  and  said — 

"  Yes,  we're  cousins,  and  not  very  for  removed.  Mick  Hoggarty's 
grandmother  was  Millicent  Brady,  and  she  and  my  Aunt  Towzer 
were  related,  as  all  the  world  knows  ;  for  Decinuis  Brady,  of  Bally- 
brady,  married  an  own  cousin  of  Aunt  Towzer's  mother,  Bell  Swift 
■ — that  was  no  relation  of  the  Dean's,  my  love,  who  came  but  of  a 
so-so  family — and  isn't  that  clear  1 " 

"  Oh,  perfectly,  grandniumma,"  said  Lady  Jane,  laughing, 
while  the  right  honourable  gent  still  rode  by  us,  looking  sour  and 
surly. 

"And  sure  you  knew  the  Hoggarties,  Edmund? — the  thirteen 
red-haired  girls — tlie  nine  graces,  and  four  over,  as  poor  Glanboy 
used  to  call  them.  Poor  Clan  ! — a  cousin  of  yours  and  mine,  Mr. 
Titmarsh,  and  sadly  in  love  with  me  he  was  too.  Not  remember 
them  all  now,  Edmund? — not  remember? — not  remember  Biddy 
and  Minny,  and  Thedy  and  Widdy,  and  Mysie  and  Grizzy,  and 
P(^lly  and  Dolly,  and  the  rest  ? " 

"  D —  the  Miss  Hoggarties,  ma'am,"  said  the  right  honourable 
gent ;  and  he  said  it  with  such  energy,  that  his  grey  horse  gave  a 
sudden  lash  out  that  well-nigh  sent  him  over  his  head.  Lady  Jane 
screamed ;  Lady  Fanny  laughed ;  old  Lady  Drum  looked  as  if  she 
did  not  care  twopence,  and  said  "  Serve  you  right  for  swearing,  you 
qjous  man  you  !  " 

"  Hadn't  you  better  come  into  the  carriage,  Edmund  —  Mr. 
Preston  ? "  cried  out  the  lady  anxiously. 

"  Oh,  I'm  sure  I'll  slip  out,  ma'am,"  says  I. 

"  Pooh — pooh  !  don't  stir,"  said  Lady  Drum  :  "  it's  my  carriage  ; 
and  if  Mr.  Preston  chooses  to  swear  at  a  lady  of  my  years  in  that 
ojous  vulgar  way — in  that  ojous  vulgar  way  I  repeat — I  don't  see 


24      THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

why  my  friends  should  be  inconvenienced  for  him.  Let  him  sit  on 
the  dicky  if  he  likes,  or  come  in  and  ride  bodkin."  It  was  quite 
clear  that  my  Lady  Dnun  hated  her  grandson-in-law  heartily ;  and 
I've  remarked  somehow  in  families  that  this  kind  of  hatred  is  by 
no  means  uncommon. 

Mr.  Preston,  one  of  His  Majesty's  Secretaries  of  State,  was,  to 
tell  the  tnith,  in  a  great  fright  upon  his  horse,  and  was  glad  to  get 
away  from  the  kicking  plunging  brute.  His  pale  face  looked  still 
paler  than  before,  and  his  hands  and  legs  trembled,  as  he  dismounted 
fruiu  the  cob  and  gave  the  reins  to  his  servant.  I  disliked  the  looks 
of  the  chap — of  the  master,  I  mean — at  the  first  moment  he  came 
a\>,  when  he  spoke  rudely  to  that  nice  gentle  wife  of  his ;  and  I 
thought  he  was  a  cowardly  fellow,  as  the  adventure  of  the  cob 
showed  him  to  be.  Heaven  bless  you  !  a  baby  coukl  have  ridden 
it ;  and  here  was  the  man  with  his  soul  in  his  mouth  at  the  very 
first  kick, 

"  Oh,  quick  !  do  come  in,  Edmund,"  .said  Lady  Fanny,  laughing  ; 
and  the  carriage  steps  being  let  down,  and  giving  me  a  great  scowl 
as  he  came  in,  he  was  going  to  place  himself  in  Lady  Fanny's  comer 
(I  warrant  you  I  wouldn't  budge  from  mine),  when  the  little  rogue 
cried  out,  "  Oh  no !  by  no  means,  Mr.  Preston.  Shut  the  door, 
Thomas.  And  oh  !  what  fun  it  will  be  to  show  all  the  world  a 
Secretary  of  State  riding  bodkin  !  " 

And  pretty  glum  the  Secretary  of  State  looked,  I  assure  you  ! 

"Take  my  plai-e,  Eilmund,  and  don't  minil  Fanny's  folly,"  said 
Lady  Jane  timidly. 

"Oh  no!  Pray,  madam,  dmi't  stir!  I'm  comfortable,  very 
comfortable  ;  and  so  I  hope  is  this  Mr. — this  gentleman." 

"  Perfectly,  I  assure  you,"  says  I.  "  I  was  going  to  offer  to 
ride  your  horse  home  for  you,  as  you  seemed  to  be  rather  frightened 
at  it ;  but  the  fact  was,  I  was  so  comforttible  here  that  really  I 
couldn't  move." 

Such  a  grin  as  old  Lady  Dnim  gave  when  I  said  that ! — how 
her  little  eyes  twinkled,  and  her  little  sly  mouth  puckered  up !  I 
couldn't  help  speaking,  for,  look  you,  my  blood  was  uj). 

"We  shall  always  be  happy  of  your  company.  Cousin  Titniarsh," 
says  she ;  and  handed  me  a  gold  snuff-box,  out  of  which  I  took  a 
pinch,  and  .sneezed  with  the  air  of  a  lord. 

"  As  you  have  invited  this  gentleman  into  your  carriage,  Lady 
Jane  Preston,  hadn't  you  better  invite  him  home  to  dinner  1 "  says 
Mr.  Preston,  quite  blue  ^^nth  rage. 

"I  invited  him  into  /«// carr'age,"  says  the  old  lady;  "and  as 
we  are  going  to  dine  at  your  house,  and  you  press  it,  I'm  sure  I 
shall  be  very  happy  to  see  him  there." 


o 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     25 

"  I'm  very  sorry  I'm  engaged,"  said  I. 

"  Oh,  indeed,  what  a  pity  ! "  says  Right  Honourable  Ned,  still 
glowering  at  his  wife.  "  Wlia£  a  pity  that  this  gentleman — I  forget 
his  name — that  your  frieiid,  Lady  Jane,  is  engaged !  I  am  sure 
vou  would  have  had  such  gratification  in  meeting  your  relation  in 
Whitehall." 

Lady  Drum  was  over-fond  of  finding  out  relations  to  be  sure ; 
but  this  speech  of  Right  Honourable  Ned's  was  rather  too  much, 
"Now,  Sam,"  says  I,  "be  a  man  and  show  your  spirit!"  So  I 
spoke  up  at  once,  and  said,  "  Why,  ladies,  as  the  right  honourable 
gent  is  so  very  pressing,  I'll  give  up  my  engagement,  and  shall  have 
sincere  ijleasure  in  cutting  mutton  with  him.  What's  your  hour, 
sir?" 

He  didn't  condescend  to  answer,  and  for  me  I  did  not  care ;  for, 
you  see,  I  did  not  intend  to  dine  with  the  man,  but  only  to  give 
him  a  lesson  of  manners.  For  though  I  am  but  a  poor  fellow,  and 
hear  people  cry  out  how  vulgar  it  is  to  eat  peas  with  a  knife,  or  ask 
three  times  for  cheese,  and  such  like  points  of  ceremony,  there's 
something,  I  think,  much  more  vulgar  than  all  this,  and  that  is, 
insolence  to  one's  inferiors.  I  hate  tlie  chap  that  uses  it,  as  I  scorn 
him  of  humble  rank  that  aflfects  to  be  of  the  fashion ;  and  so  I 
determined  to  let  Mr.  Preston  know  a  ])iece  of  my  mind. 

When  the  carriage  drove  up  to  his  house,  I  handed  out  the 
ladies  as  politely  as  possible,  and  walked  into  the  hall,  and  then, 
taking  hold  of  Mr.  Preston's  button  at  the  door,  I  said,  before  the 
ladies  and  the  tAvo  big  servants^upon  my  word  I  did — "  Sir,"  says 
I,  "  this  kind  old  lady  asked  me  into  her  carriage,  and  I  rode  in  it 
to  please  her,  not  myself.  When  you  came  up  and  asked  who  the 
devil  I  was,  I  thought  you  might  have  put  the  question  in  a  more 
polite  manner ;  but  it  wasn't  my  business  to  speak.  When,  by  way 
of  a  joke,  you  invited  me  to  dinner,  I  thought  I  would  answer  in  a 
joke  too,  and  here  I  am.  But  don't  be  frightened ;  I'm  not  a-going 
to  dine  with  you :  only  if  you  play  the  same  joke  upon  other  parties 
— on  some  of  the  chaps  in  our  office,  for  example — I  reconunend  you 
to  h.ave  a  care,  or  they  will  take  you  at  your  tvord" 

"Is  that  all,  sir?"  says  Mr.  Preston,  still  in  a  rage.  "If  you 
have  done,  will  you  leave  this  house,  or  shall  my  servants  tm-n  you 
out  1  Turn  out  this  fellow  !  do  you  hear  me  1 "  and  he  broke  away 
from  me,  and  flung  into  his  study  in  a  rage. 

"  He's  an  ojous  horrid  monsthcr  of  a  man,  that  husband  of 
yours  ! "  said  Lady  Drum,  seizing  hold  of  her  elder  granddaughter's 
arm,  "and  I  hate  him;  and  so  come  away,  for  the  dinner  '11  be 
getting  cold  : "  and  she  was  for  hurrying  away  Lady  Jane  without 
more  ado.     But  that  kind  lady,  coming  forward,  looking  very  pale 

E 


26       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TIT3IARSH 

and  trembling,  said,  "  Mr.  Titmarsh,  I  do  hope  you'll  not  be  angry 
— that  is,  that  you'll  forget  what  has  happened,  for,  believe  me,  it 
has  given  me  very  great " 

Very  great  what,  I  never  could  say,  for  here  the  poor  thing's 
eyes  filled  with  tears  ;  and  Lady  Drum  crying  out  "  Tut,  tut !  none 
of  this  nonsense,"  pulled  her  away  by  the  sleeve,  and  went  upstairs. 
But  little  Lady  Fanny  walked  boldly  up  to  me,  and  held  me  out 
her  little  hand,  and  gave  mine  such  a  squeeze,  and  said,  "  Good-bye, 
my  dear  Mr.  Titmarsh,"  so  very  kindly,  that  I'm  blest  if  I  did 
not  blush  up  to  the  ears,  and  all  the  blood  in  my  body  began  to 
tingle. 

So,  when  she  was  gone,  I  clapped  my  hat  on  my  head,  and 
walked  out  of  the  hall-door,  feeling  as  proud  as  a  peacock  and  as 
brave  as  a  lion  ;  and  all  I  wished  for  was  that  one  of  tliose  saucy 
grinning  footmen  should  say  or  do  something  to  me  tliat  was  the 
least  uncivil,  su  tiiat  I  might  have  the  pleasure  of  knot-king  him 
down,  with  my  best  com])Uments  to  his  master.  But  neither  of 
them  did  me  any  such  favour !  and  I  went  away  and  dined  at 
home  off  boiled  mutton  and  turnips  with  Gus  Hoskins  quite 
peacefully. 

I  did  not  think  it  was  proper  to  tell  Gus  (who,  between  our- 
selves, is  rather  curious,  and  inclined  to  tittle-tattle)  all  the  parti- 
culars of  the  family  quarrel  of  which  I  had  been   the  cause  and 

witness,  and  so  just  said  that  the  old  lady ("They  were  the 

Drum  arms,"  says  Gus  ;  "  for  I  went  and  looked  them  out  that 
minute  in  the  '  Peerage  '  ") — that  the  old  lady  turned  out  to 
be  a  cousin  of  mine,  and  that  she  had  taken  me  to  drive  in  the 
Park.  Next  day  we  went  to  tlie  otfice  as  usual,  when  you  may 
be  sure  that  Hoskins  told  everything  of  what  liad  liaj)pened,  and 
a  gi'cat  deal  more ;  and  somehow,  though  I  did  not  ])rctcnd  to 
care  sixpence  about  the  matter,  I  must  confess  that  I  was  rather 
])lcased  that  the  gents  in  our  ofl&ce  should  hear  of  a  part  of  my 
adventure. 

But  fancy  my  surprise,  on  coming  home  in  the  evening,  to  find 
Mrs.  Stokes  the  landlady,  Miss  Solina  Stokes  her  daughter,  and 
Master  Bob  Stokes  her  son  (an  idle  young  vagabond  that  was  always 
])laying  marbles  on  St.  Bride's  steps  and  in  Salisbury  Square), — 
when  I  found  them  all  bustling  and  tumbling  up  the  steps  before 
me  to  our  rooms  on  the  second  floor,  and  there,  on  the  table, 
between  our  two  flutes  on  one  side,  my  allnun,  Gus's  "  Don  Juan  " 
and  "Peerage"  on  the  other,  I  saw  as  follows : — • 

1.  A  basket  of  great  red  peaches,  looking  like  the  cheeks  of  my 
dear  Mary  Smith. 

2.  A  ditto  of  large,  fat,  luscious,  heavy -looking  grapes. 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     27 

3.  An  enormous  piece  of  raw  mutton,  as  I  thought  it  was ; 
but  Mrs.  Stokes  said  it  was  the  primest  haunch  of  venison  that 
ever  she  saw. 

And  three  cards — viz. — 

DOWAGER  COUNTESS  OF  DRUM. 
LADY  FANNY  RAKES. 

MR.  PRESTON. 
LADY  JANE  PRESTON. 

EARL  OP  TIPTOFF. 

*'  Sich  a  carriage  ! "  says  Mrs.  Stokes  (for  that  was  the  way  tlie 
poor  thing  spoke).  "Sich 'a  carriage — all  over  coronites!  sich  liveries 
— two  great  footmen,  with  red  whiskers  and  yellowplush  small- 
clothes ;  and  inside,  a  very  old  lady  in  a  white  poke  bonnet,  and  a 
young  one  with  a  great  Leghorn  hat  and  lilue  rilxands,  and  a  great 
tall  pale  gentleman  with  a  tuft  on  his  chin. 

" '  Pray,  madam,  does  Mr.  Titmarsh  live  here  1 '  says  the  young 
lady,  witli  her  clear  voice. 

"  '  Yes,  my  Lady,'  says  I ;  '  but  he's  at  the  office — the  West 
Diddlesex  Fire  and  Life  Office,  Cornhill.' 

"'Chiirles,  get  out  the  things,'  says  the  gentleman,  quite  solemn. 

"  'Yes,  my  Lord,'  sixys  Charles;  and  brings  me  out  the  haunch 
in  a  newspaper,  and  on  the  chauy  dish  as  you  see  it,  and  the  two 
baskets  of  fruit  besides. 

" '  Have  the  kindness,  madam,'  says  my  Lord,  '  to  take  these 
things  to  Mr.  Titmarsh's  rooms,  with  our,  with  Lady  Jane  Preston's 
comidiments,  and  request  liis  acceptance  of  them ; '  and  then  he 
pulled  out  the  cards  on  your  table,  and  this  letter,  sealed  with  his 
Lordship's  own  crown." 

And  herewith  Mrs.  Stokes  gave  me  a  letter,  which  my  wife 
keeps  to  this  day,  by  the  way,  and  which  runs  thus : — 

"The  Earl  of  Tiptotf  has  been  commissioned  by  Lady  Jane 
Preston  to  express  her  sincere  regret  and  disappointment  that  slie 
was  not  able  yesterday  to  enjoy  the  pleasure  of  Mr.  Titraarsh's  com- 
pany. Lady  Jane  is  about  to  leave  town  immediately:  she  will 
therefore  be  unal)le  to  receive  her  friends  in  Whitehall  Place  this 
season.  But  Lord  Tiptoff  trusts  that  Mr.  Titmarsh  will  have  the 
kindness  to  acce])t  some  of  the  produce  of  her  Ladyship's  garden  and 
park  ;  witli  which,  jierhaps,  he  will  entertain  some  of  those  friends  in 
whose  favour  he  knows  so  well  how  to  speak." 


28       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

Along  with  this  was  a  little  note,  containing  the  words  "  Lady 
Drum  at  home.  Friday  evening,  June  17."  And  all  this  came  to 
me  because  my  aunt  Hoggarty  had  given  me  a  diamond-pin  ! 

I  did  not  send  back  the  venison  :  as  why  should  1 1  Gus  was 
for  sending  it  at  once  to  Brough,  our  director ;  and  the  grapes  and 
peaches  to  my  aunt  in  Somersetshire. 

"But  no,"  says  I;  "we'll  ask  Bob  Swinney  and  half-a-dozen 
more  of  our  gents  ;  and  we'll  have  a  merry  night  of  it  on  Saturday." 
And  a  merry  night  we  had  too;  and  as  we  had  no  wine  in  the 
cupboard,  we  had  plenty  of  ale,  and  gin-punch  afterwards.  And 
Gus  sat  at  the  foot  of  the  table,  and  I  at  the  head ;  and  we  sang 
songs,  both  comic  and  sentimental,  and  drank  toasts ;  and  I  made 
a  speech  that  there  is  no  possibility  of  mentioning  here,  because, 
entre  nous,  I  had  quite  forgotten  in  the  morning  everything  that 
had  taken  place  after  a  certain  period  on  tlie  night  before. 


CHAPTER   IV 

nOJF  THE  HAPPY  DIAMOND-IFEARER  DINES  AT 
PENTONVILLE 

I  DID  not  go  to  the  office  till  half-aii-hour  after  opening  time  on 
Monday.  If  the  truth  must  be  told,  I  was  not  sorry  to  let 
Hoskins  have  the  start  of  mc,  and  tell  the  chaps  wliat  had 
taken  place, — for  we  all  have  our  little  vanities,  and  I  liked  to  be 
thought  well  of  by  my  companions. 

When  I  came  in,  I  saw  my  business  had  been  done,  by  the 
way  in  which  the  chaps  looked  at  me ;  especially  Abednego,  who 
offered  me  a  pinch  out  of  his  gold  snuff-box  the  very  first  thing. 
Roundhand  shook  me,  too,  warmly  by  the  hand,  wlien  he  came 
round  to  look  over  my  day-book,  said  I  wrote  a  capital  liand  (and 
indeed  I  believe  I  do,  without  any  sort  of  flattery),  and  invited  me 
for  dinner  next  Sunday,  in  Myddelton  Square.  "  You  won't  have," 
said  he,  "  quite  such  a  grand  turn-out  as  with  yotir  friends  at  the 
West  End  " — he  said  this  with  a  jiarticular  accent — "  but  Amelia 
and  I  are  always  happy  to  see  a  friend  in  our  plain  way, — -pdle 
sherry,  old  port,  and  cut  and  come  again.     Hey  % " 

I  said  I  would  come  and  bring  Hoskins  too. 

He  answered  that  I  Avas  very  jjolite,  and  that  he  should  be  very 
happy  to  see  Hoskins ;  and  we  went  accordingly  at  the  appointed 
day  and  hour ;  but  though  Gus  was  eleventh  clerk  and  I  twelfth, 
I  remarked  that  at  dinner  I  was  helped  first  and  best,  I  had  twice 
as  many  force-meat  balls  as  Hoskins  in  my  mock-turtle,  and  pretty 
nearly  all  the  oysters  out  of  the  sauce-boat.  Once  Roundhand  was 
going  to  help  Gus  before  me ;  when  his  wife,  who  was  seated  at  the 
head  of  the  table,  looking  very  big  and  fierce  in  red  crape  and  a 
turban,  shouted  out,  "  Antony  ! "  and  poor  R,  dropped  the  plate, 
and  blushed  as  red  as  anything.  How  Mrs.  R.  did  talk  to  me  about 
the  West  End,  to  be  sure  !  She  had  a  "  Peerage,"  as  you  may  be 
certain,  and  knew  everything  about  the  Drum  family  in  a  manner 
that  quite  astonished  me.  She  asked  me  liow  nuich  Lord  Drum 
had  a  year ;  whether  I  thought  he  had  twenty,  thirty,  forty,  or  a 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  a  year ;  whether  I  was  invited  to  Drimi 
Castle ;  what  the  young  ladies  wore,  and  if  they  had  those  odious 


30       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

gigot  sleeves  which  were  just  coming  in  then ;  and  here  Mrs.  R. 
looked  at  a  ])air  of  large  mottled  arms  that  she  was  very  proud  of. 

"  I  say,  Sam  my  boy  ! "  cried,  in  the  midst  of  our  talk,  Mr. 
Roundhand,  who  had  been  passing  the  port-wine  round  pretty  freely, 
"  I  hope  you  looked  to  the  main  chance,  and  put  in  a  few  shares  of 
the  West  Diddlesex,— hey  ? " 

"  Mr.  Roundhand,  have  you  put  up  the  decanters  downstairs  % " 
cries  the  lady,  quite  angry,  and  wishing  to  stop  the  convereation. 

"  No,  Milly,  I've  emptied  'em,"  says  R. 

"  Don't  Milly  me,  sir !  and  have  the  goodness  to  go  down  and 
tell  Lancy  my  maid  "  (a  look  at  me)  "  to  make  the  tea  in  the  study. 
We  have  a  gentleman  here  who  is  not  ^lsed  to  Pentonville  ways  " 
(another  look);  "but  he  won't  mind  the  ways  of  Jri^nds."  And 
here  Mre.  Roundhand  heaved  her  very  large  chest,  and  gave  me  a 
third  look  that  was  so  severe,  that  I  declare  to  goodness  it  made  me 
look  quite  foolish.  As  to  Gus,  she  never  so  much  as  spoke  to  him 
all  the  evening  ;  but  he  consoled  himself  witli  a  gTeat  lot  of  muffins, 
and  sat  most  of  the  evening  (it  wa.s  a  cruel  hot  summer)  whistling 
and  talking  with  Roundliand  on  the  verandah.  I  think  I  should 
like  to  have  been  "with  them, — for  it  wa-s  very  close  in  the  room 
with  tliat  great  big  Mrs.  Roundhand  squeezing  close  up  to  one  on 
the  sofo. 

"  Do  you  recollect  what  a  jolly  night  we  had  here  last  summer  1 " 
I  heard  Hoskins  say,  who  Avas  leaning  over  the  balcony,  and  ogling 
the  girls  coming  home  from  church.  "  You  and  me  with  our  coats 
off,  plenty  of  cold  rum-and-water,  Mrs.  Roundhand  at  Margate,  and 
a  whole  box  of  Manillas  ? " 

"Hush  !"  said  Roundhand,  quite  eagerly;  "Milly  will  hear." 

But  Milly  didn't  hear  :  for  she  was  occupied  in  telling  me  an 
immense  long  story  about  her  waltzing  with  the  Count  de  Schlop- 
penzollcrn  at  the  City  ball  to  the  Allied  Sovereigns :  and  how  the 
Count  had  great  large  wiiite  moustaches  ;  and  how  odd  she  thought 
it  to  go  whirling  round  tlie  room  with  a  great  man's  arm  rouml  your 
waist.  "  Mr.  Roundhand  has  never  allowed  it  since  our  marriage — 
never;  but  in  the  year  'fourteen  it  was  considered  a  proper  com- 
pliment, you  know,  to  j)ay  the  sovereigns.  So  twenty-nine  young 
ladies,  of  the  best  families  in  the  City  of  London,  I  assure  you,  Mr. 
Titmarsh — there  was  the  Lord  Mayor's  own  daughters;  Alderman 
Dobbins's  gals;  Sir  Charles  Hopper's  three,  wlio  have  the  great 
house  in  Baker  Street;  and  your  humble  sen'ant,  who  was  rather 
slimmer  in  those  days — twenty -nine  of  us  had  a  dancing-master  on 
purpose,  and  practised  waltzing  in  a  room  over  the  Egyptian  Hall 
at  the  Mansion  House.  He  was  a  splendid  man,  that  Count  Schlop- 
penzollern  ! " 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     31 

"  I  am  sure,  ma'am,"  says  I,  "  he  had  a  splendid  partner  ! "  and 
blushed  up  to  my  eyes  when  I  said  it. 

"  Get  away,  you  naughty  creature ! "  says  Mrs.  Roundhand, 
giving  me  a  great  slap  :  "  you're  all  the  same,  you  men  in  the  West 
End — all  deceivers.  The  Count  was  just  like  you.  Heigho ! 
Before  you  marry,  it's  all  honey  and  compliments ;  wlien  you  win 
us,  it's  all  coldness  and  inditiercucc.  Look  at  Roundhand,  tlie  great 
baby,  trying  to  beat  down  a  butterfly  with  his  yellow  bandanna ! 
Can  a  man  like  that  comprehend  me  1  can  he  fill  the  void  in  my 
heart?"  (She  pronounced  it  without  the  h;  but  that  there  should 
be  no  mistake,  laid  her  hand  upon  the  place  meant.)  "Ah,  no! 
Will  yoii,  be  so  neglectful  when  you  marry,  Mr.  Titmarsh  % " 

As  she  spoke,  the  bells  were  just  tolling  the  people  out  of  churcli, 
and  I  fell  a-thinking  of  my  dear  dear  Mary  Smith  in  the  country, 
walking  home  to  her  grandmother's,  in  her  modest  grey  cloak,  as 
the  bells  were  chiming  and  the  air  full  of  the  sweet  smell  of  the 
hay,  and  the  river  shining  in  the  sun,  all  crimson,  purple,  gold,  and 
silver.  There  was  my  dear  Mary  a  hundred  and  twenty  miles  off", 
in  Somersetshire,  walking  home  from  church  along  with  Mr.  Snorter's 
family,  with  which  slie  came  and  went ;  and  I  was  listening  to  the 
talk  of  this  great  leering  vulgar  woman. 

I  could  not  help  feeling  for  a  certain  half  of  a  sixpence  that  you 
have  heard  me  speak  of;  and  putting  my  hand  mechanically  upon 
my  chest,  I  tore  my  fingers  with  the  point  of  my  new  diamond-pin. 
Mr.  Polonius  had  sent  it  home  the  night  before,  and  I  sported  it  for 
•the  first  time  at  Roundhand's  to  dinner. 

"  It's  a  beautiful  diamond,"  said  Mrs.  Roundhand.  "  I  have  been 
looking  at  it  all  dinner-time.  How  rich  you  must  be  to  wear  such 
splendid  things !  and  how  can  you  remain  in  a  vulgar  office  in  the 
City — you  who  have  such  great  acquaintances  at  the  West  End  1 '' 

The  woman  had  somehow  put  me  in  such  a  passion  that  I 
bounced  off  the  sofa,  and  made  for  the  balcony  without  answering 
a  word, — ay,  and  half  broke  my  head  against  the  sash,  too,  as  I 
went  out  to  the  gents  in  the  open  air.  "  Gus,"  says  I,  "  I  feel  very 
unwell :  I  wish  you'd  come  home  with  me."  And  Gus  did  not 
desire  anything  better ;  for  he  had  ogled  the  last  girl  out  of  the 
last  church,  and  the  night  was  beginning  to  fall. 

"  What !  already  1  "  said  Mrs.  Roundhand  ;  "  there  is  a  lobster 
coming  up,  —  a  trifling  refreshment ;  not  what  he's  accustomed 
to,  but " 

I  am  sorry  to  say  I  nearly  said,  "  D —  the  lobster  !  "  as  Round- 
hand  went  and  whispered  to  her  that  I  was  ill. 

"  Ay,"  said  Gus,  looking  very  knowing.  "  Recollect,  Mrs.  R., 
that  he  was  at  the  West  End  on  Thursday,  asked  to  dine,  ma'am, 


32       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

with  the  tiptop  nobs.  Chaps  don't  dine  at  the  "West  End  for 
nothing,  do  they,  R.  1     If  you  play  at  howls,  you  know " 

"  You  must  look  out  for  rubbers,"  said  Roundhand,  as  quick 
as  thought. 

"Js^ot  in  my  house  of  a  Sunday,"  said  Mrs.  R.,  looking  very 
fierce  and  angrj'.  "  Not  a  card  shall  be  touched  here.  Are  we  in 
a  Protestant  land,  sir  ?  in  a  Cliristian  country  ? " 

"My  dear,  you  don't  imderstand.  We  were  not  talking  of 
rubbers  of  whist." 

"  There  shall  be  no  game  at  all  in  the  house  of  a  Sabbath  eve," 
said  Mrs.  Roundhand ;  and  out  she  flounced  from  the  room,  without 
ever  so  much  as  wishing  us  good-night. 

"  Do  stay,"  said  the  husband,  looking  very  much  frij^htened, — 
"do  stay.  She  won't  come  back  while  you're  here;  and  I  ilo  wish 
you'd  stay  so." 

But  we  wouldn't :  and  when  we  reached  Salisbury  Square,  I 
gave  Gus  a  lecture  about  spending:  his  Sundays  idly  ;  and  read  out 
one  of  Blair's  sermons  before  we  wont  to  Ix'd.  As  I  turned  over 
in  bed,  I  could  not  help  thinking  about  the  luck  the  pin  had  brought 
me ;  and  it  was  not  over  yet,  as  you  will  see  in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER  V 

HOIF  THE  DIAMOND  INTRODUCES  HIM  TO  A  STILL 
MORE  FASHIONABLE  PLACE 

TO  tell  the  truth,  though,  about  the  pin,  although  I  mentioned 
it  almost  the  last  thing  in  the  previous  chapter,  I  assure 
you  it  was  by  no  means  the  last  thing  in  my  thoughts.  It 
had  come  home  from  Mr.  Polonius's,  as  I  said,  on  Saturday  night ; 
and  Gus  and  I  happened  to  be  out  enjoying  ourselves,  half-price,  at 
Sadler's  Wells  ;  and  perhaps  we  took  a  little  refreshment  on  our  way 
back :  but  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  my  story. 

On  the  table,  however,  was  the  little  box  from  the  jeweller's  ; 
and  when  I  took  it  out, — 7m/,  how  the  diamond  did  twinkle  and 
glitter  by  the  light  of  our  one  candle  ! 

"  I'm  sure  it  would  light  up  the  room  of  itself,"  sfiys  Gus. 
"I've  read  they  do  in — in  history." 

It  was  in  the  history  of  Cogia  Hassan  Alhabbal,  in  the  "  Arabian 
Nights,"  as  I  knew  very  well.  But  we  put  the  candle  out,  never- 
theless, to  try, 

"Well,  I  declare  to  goodness  it  does  illuminate  the  old  place  !" 
says  Gus  ;  but  the  foct  was,  that  there  was  a  gasdamp  opposite 
our  window,  and  I  believe  that  Avas  the  reason  why  we  could  see 
pretty  well.  At  least  in  my  bedroom,  to  which  I  was  obliged  to 
go  without  a  candle,  and  of  which  the  window  looked  out  on  a 
dead  wall,  I  could  not  see  a  wink,  in  si)ite  of  the  Hoggarty  diamond, 
and  was  obliged  to  grope  about  in  the  dark  for  a  pincushion  which 
Somebody  gave  me  (I  doir't  mind  owning  it  was  Mary  Smith),  and 
in  which  I  stuck  it  for  the  night.  But,  somehow,  I  did  not  sleep 
much  for  thinking  of  it,  and  woke  very  early  in  the  morning;  and, 
if  the  truth  must  be  told,  stuck  it  in  my  night-gown,  like  a  fool,  and 
admired  myself  very  much  in  the  glass. 

Gus  admired  it  as  nuich  as  I  did;  for  since  my  return,  and 
especially  since  my  venison  dinner  and  drive  with  Lady  Drum,  he 
thought  I  was  the  finest  fellow  in  the  world,  and  boasted  about 
his  "  West  End  friend  "  everywhere. 

As  we  were  going  to  dine  at  Roundhand's,  and  I  had  no  black 
satin  stock  to  set  it  off,  I  was  obliged  to  place  it  in  the  frill  of  my 


34       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

best  shirt,  which  tore  the  muslin  sadly,  by  the  way.  However, 
the  diamond  had  its  effect  on  my  entertainers,  as  we  have  seen  ; 
rather  too  much  perhaps  on  one  of  them ;  and  next  day  I  wore  it 
down  at  the  office,  as  Gus  would  make  me  do;  though  it  did  not 
look  near  so  well  in  the  second  day's  shirt  as  on  the  first  day,  when 
the  linen  was  quite  clear  and  bright  with  Somersetshire  washing. 

The  chaps  at  the  West  Diddlesex  all  admired  it  hugely,  except 
that  snarling  Scotchman  IM'Whii-ter,  fourth  clerk, — out  of  envy 
because  I  did  not  think  much  of  a  great  yellow  stone,  named  a 
carum-gorum,  or  some  such  thing,  which  he  had  in  a  snuft'-muU, 
as  he  called  it, — all  except  M'Whirtcr,  I  s;iy,  were  delighted  with 
it;  and  Abednego  himself,  who  ought  to  know,  as  his  father  was 
in  the  line,  told  me  the  jewel  was  worth  at  le;\st  ten  poiuulsh,  and 
that  his  governor  would  give  me  as  nnicl)  for  it. 

"  That's  a  i)roof,"  says  Roundhand,  "  that  Tit's  diamond  is 
worth  at  least  thirty."     And  we  all  laughed,  and  agreed  it  was. 

Now  I  must  confess  that  all  t'r.ese  praises,  and  the  ros}>ect  that 
was  paid  me,  turned  my  head  a  little  ;  and  as  all  the  chaps  said  I 
must  have  a  black  satin  stock  to  set  tiie  stone  utf,  I  wius  IVkiI  t-nough 
to  buy  a  stock  that  cost  me  five-and-twenty  shillings,  at  Ludlani's 
in  Piccadilly :  for  Gus  said  I  nmst  go  to  the  liest  place,  to  l»e  sure, 
and  have  none  of  our  cheap  and  common  Eiust  Eiul  stutt'.  I  might 
have  had  one  for  sixteen  and  six  in  Cheapsitle,  every  whit  a.s  go<Kl ; 
but  when  a  young  lad  becomes  vain,  and  wants  to  be  f:ishionable, 
you  see  he  can't  help  being  extravagant. 

Our  director,  Mr.  Brough,  did  not  fail  to  hoar  of  the  haunch  of 
venison  business,  and  my  relationship  Mith  Lady  Dnnn  and  the 
Right  Honourable  Edmund  Preston  :  oidy  Alx-ilnego,  who  told  him, 
said  I  was  her  Ladyship's  first  cousin  ;  and  this  made  Brough  think 
more  of  me,  and  no  Avorse  than  before. 

Mr.  B.  was,  as  everybody  knows.  Member  of  Parliament  for 
Rottcnburgh  ;  and  being  considered  one  of  the  richest  men  in  the 
City  of  London,  used  to  receive  all  the  great  peojdc  of  tlie  land  at 
his  \illa  at  Fulham ;  and  we  often  read  in  the  pai)ers  of  tlie  rare 
doings  going  on  tliere. 

Well,  the  ])in  certainly  worked  wojiders  :  for  not  content  merely 
with  making  me  a  present  of  a  ride  in  a  countess's  carriage,  of  a 
haunch  of  venison  and  two  baskets  of  fiiiit,  and  the  dimicr  at 
Roundhand's  above  described,  my  dianjond  had  other  honours  in 
store  for  me,  and  procured  me  the  honour  of  an  invitation  to  the 
house  of  our  director,  I\Ir.  Brough. 

Once  a  year,  in  June,  that  honourable  gent  gave  a  grand  ball 
at  his  house  at  Fulham  ;  and  by  the  accounts  of  the  entertaiinncnt 
brought  back  by  one  or  two  of  our  cliaps  who  had  been  invited. 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     35 

it  was  one  of  the  most  magnificent  tilings  to  be  seen  about  London. 
You  saw  Members  of  Parliament  there  as  thick  as  peas  in  July, 
lords  and  ladies  without  end.  There  was  everything  and  everybody 
of  the  tiptop  sort ;  and  I  have  heard  that  Mr.  Gunter,  of  Berkeley 
Square,  supplied  the  ices,  supper,  and  footmen,^ — though  of  the 
latter  Brough  kept  a  plenty,  but  not  enough  to  serve  the  host  of 
people  who  came  to  him.  The  party,  it  must  be  remembered,  was 
Mrs.  Brough's  party,  not  the  gentleman's, — he  being  in  the  Dissent- 
ing way,  would  scarcely  sanction  any  entertainments  of  the  kind : 
but  he  told  his  City  friends  that  his  lady  governed  him  in  every- 
thing ;  and  it  was  generally  observed  that  most  of  them  would 
allow  their  daughters  to  go  to  the  ball  if  asked,  on  account  of  the 
immense  number  of  the  nobility  which  our  director  asseml)led 
together :  Mrs.  Roundhand,  I  know,  for  one,  would  have  given  one 
of  her  ears  to  go ;  but,  as  I  have  said  before,  nothing  would  induce 
Brough  to  ask  her. 

Roundluuid  himself,  and  Gutch,  nineteenth  clerk,  son  of  the 
brother  of  an  East  Indian  director,  were  the  only  two  of  our  gents 
invited,  a.s  we  knew  very  well :  for  they  had  received  their  invita- 
tions many  weelvS  before,  and  bragged  about  them  not  a  little. 
But  two  (lays  before  the  ball,  and  after  my  diamond-pin  had  had 
its  due  effect  upon  the  gents  at  the  office,  Abednego,  wlio  had  been 
in  the  directors'  room,  came  to  my  desk  with  a  great  smirk,  and 
said,  "Tit,  Mr.  B.  says  that  he  expects  you  will  come  down  with 
Roundhand  to  the  ball  on  Thursday."  I  thought  Moses  was  joking, 
— at  any  rate,  that  Mr.  B.'s  message  was  a  queer  one;  for  people 
don't  usually  send  invitations  in  that  abrupt  peremptory  sort  of 
way ;  but,  sure  enough,  he  presently  came  down  himself  and  con- 
firmed it,  saying,  as  he  was  going  out  of  the  office,  "  Mr.  Titmarsh, 
you  will  come  down  on  Thm-sday  to  Mrs.  Brough's  party,  where 
you  will  see  some  relations  of  yoursi," 

"  "West  End  again  !  "  says  that  Gus  Hoskins ;  and  accordingly 
down  I  went,  taking  a  place  in  a  cal)  whicli  Rovmdhand  hired  for 
himself,  Gutch,  and  me,  and  for  which  he  very  generously  paid 
eight  shillings. 

There  is  no  use  to  describe  the  .grand  gala,  nor  the  number  of 
lamps  in  the  lodge  and  in  the  garden,  nor  the  crowd  of  carriages 
that  came  in  at  the  gates,  nor  the  troops  of  curious  -people  outside ; 
nor  the  ice.s,  fiddlers,  MTcaths  of  flowers,  and  cold  supper  within. 
The  whole  description  was  beautifully  given  in  a  fashionable  paper, 
by  a  reporter  who  observed  the  same  from  the  "  Yellow  Lion  "  over 
the  way,  and  told  it  in  his  journal  in  the  most  accurate  manner; 
getting  an  account  of  the  dresses  of  the  great  people  from  their 
footmen  and  coachmen,  when  they  came  to  the  alehouse  for  theii" 


36      THE    HISTORY    OF   SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

porter  As  for  the  names  of  the  gtiests,  they,  you  may  be  sure, 
found  their  way  to  the  same  newspaper :  and  a  great  laugh  was  had 
at  my  expense,  because  among  the  titles  of  the  greiit  people  men- 
tioned my  name  appeared  in  the  list  of  the  "  Honouraiiles."  Next 
day,  Brough  advertised  "a  hundred  and  fifty  guinciis  reward  for  an 
emerald  necklace  lost  at  the  party  of  John  Brough,  Esq.,  "it 
Fulham  ; "  though  some  of  our  peojile  said  that  no  such  thimr  was 
lost  at  all,  and  that  Brough  only  wanted  to  advertise  the  mugniti- 
cence  of  his  society ;  but  this  doubt  was  raisetl  by  persons  not 
mvited,  and  envious  no  doubt. 

Well,  I  wore  my  diamond,  as  you  may  imagine,  and  rigged 
myself  in  my  best  clotlus,  viz.,  my  blue  coat  and  brass  buttons 
before  mentioned,  naidcecn  trousers  and  silk  stockings,  a  white 
waistcoat,  and  a  pair  of  white  gloves  boutrht  fur  the  <Kvasion.  Br.t 
my  coat  was  of  country  make,  very  higii  in  the  Avaist  and  short  in 
the  sleeves,  and  I  supjiose  nuist  have  looked  rather  odd  to  some  of 
the  great  people  assembled,  for  thty  stareil  at  me  a  great  deal,  and 
a  whole  crowd  formed  to  see  me  dance — which  I  ilid  to  the  best  of 
my  power,  performing  all  the  steps  accurately  and  with  great  agility, 
!is  I  had  been  taught  by  our  dancing-master  in  the  countrj'. 

And  with  Avhom  do  you  think  I  had  tiie  lumour  to  dance '< 
With  no  less  a  person  than  Lady  Jane  I'iTst<tn  ;  who,  it  appears, 
had  not  gone  out  of  town,  and  who  shook  me  must  kindly  by  the 
hand  when  she  saw  me,  and  asked  me  to  ilanec  witli  her.  We  had 
my  Lord  Tiptoff  and  Lady  Fanny  Rakes  fur  our  vis-h-vis. 

You  should  have  seen  lutw  the  jtcople  crowded  to  liiok  at  u.^, 
and  admired  my  dancing  too,  for  I  cut  tlie  very  lx«st  of  capers,  quite 
different  to  the  rest  of  the  gents  (my  Lord  among  the  numl)er),  who 
walked  through  the  quadrille  as  If  they  ihouglit  it  a  trouble,  and 
stared  at  my  activity  with  all  their  niiglit.  But  when  I  have  a 
dance  I  like  to  enjoy  myself:  and  Mary  Smith  often  sjiid  I  wiis  the 
very  best  i)artuer  at  oiu-  assemblies,  ^^1lile  we  were  <laniing,  I  told 
Lady  Jane  how  Roundhan<l,  Gutch,  and  I  had  come  down  tliree  in 
a  cab,  besides  the  driver ;  and  my  accoinit  of  our  adventures  made 
her  Ladyship  laugh,  I  Avan-ant  you.  Lucky  it  wjis  for  me  that  I 
didn't  go  b;ick  in  the  same  vehicle,  for  the  driver  went  and  intoxj. 
cuted  himself  at  the  "Yellow  Lion,"  threw  out  Uutdi  and  our  head 
clerk  as  he  was'flriving  them  back,  and  actually  fou-,'ht  Gutch  after 
wards  and  blacked  his  eye,  because  he  said  that  Gutch's  red  waist- 
coat frightened  the  horse. 

Lady  Jane,  however,  spared  me  such  an  uncomfortable  ride 
home :  for  she  said  she  had  a  fourth  place  in  her  carriage,  and  asked 
me  if  I  would  accept  it ;  and  i)ositively,  at  two  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  there  was  I,  after  setting  the  ladies  and  my  Lord  down, 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY   DIAMOND     37 

driven  to  Salisbury  Square  in  a  great  thundering  carriage,  -with 
flaming  lumps  and  two  tall  footmen,  who  nearly  knocked  the  door 
and  the  whole  little  street  dqvm  with  the  noise  they  made  at  the 
rapper.  You  should  have  seen  Gus's  head  peeping  out  of  window 
in  his  white  nightcap  !  He  kept  me  up  the  whole  night  telling  him 
about  the  ball,  and  the  great  peojjle  I  had  seen  there ;  and  next  day 
he  told  at  the  office  my  stories,  with  his  own  usual  embroideries 
upon  them. 

"Mr.  Titmarsh,"  said  Lady  Fanny,  laughing  to  me,  "Avho  is 
that  great  fat  curious  man,  the  master  of  the  liouse "?  Do  you  know 
he  asked  me  if  you  Avcre  not  related  to  us  1  and  I  said,  '  Oh  yes, 
you  were.' " 

"  Fanny  !  "  says  Lady  Jane. 

"  Well,"  answered  the  other,  "  did  not  grandmamma  say  Mr. 
Titmarsh  was  her  <'ousin  ? " 

"  But  you  know  that  gnmdmamma's  memory  is  not  very  good." 

"  Indeed,  you're  wrong,  Lady  Jane,"  says  my  Lord ;  "  I  think 
it's  prodigious." 

"Yes,  but  not  very — not  very  accurate." 

" No,  my  Lady,"  says  I ;  "for  her  Ladyship,  the  Countess  of 
Drum,  said,  if  you  remember,  that  my  friend  Gus  Hoskins " 

"  AVhose  cause  you  supported  so  bravely,"  cries  Lady  Fanny. 

"—That  my  friend  Gus  is  her  Ladyship's  cousin  too,  which 
cannot  be,  for  I  know  all  his  family :  they  live  in  Skimier  Street 
and  St.  Mary  Axe,  and  are  not — not  quite  so  respectable  as  my 
relatives." 

At  this  they  all  began  to  laugh ;  and  my  Lord  said,  rather 
haughtily — ■ 

"  Dcfjcnd  uj)on  it,  Mr.  Titmarsh,  that  Lady  Drum  is  no  more 
your  cousin  than  .she  is  the  cousin  of  your  friend  Mr.  Hoskinson." 

"  Hoskins,  my  Lord — and  so  I  tokl  Gus  ;  but  you  see  he  is  very 
fond  of  me,  and  ivill  have  it  that  I  am  related  to  Lady  D.  :  and  say 
wiiat  I  will  to  the  contrary,  tells  the  story  everywhere.  Though,  to 
be  sure,"  added  I  with  a  laugh,  "  it  has  gained  me  no  small  good  in 
my  time."  So  I  described  to  the  party  our  dinner  at  Mrs.  Eouud- 
hand's,  which  all  came  from  my  diamond-pin,  and  my  reputation  as 
a  conne(;tion  of  the  aristocnicy.  Then  I  thanked  Lady  Jane  hand- 
somely for  her  magnificent  jiresent  of  fruit  and  venison,  and  told  her 
that  it  had  entertained  a  great  number  of  kind  friends  of  mine,  who 
had  drunk  lier  Ladyshij/s  health  with  the  greatest  gratitude. 

''  A  kaunch  of  venison  !  "  cried  Lady  Jane,  quite  astonished  ; 
*'  indeed,  Mr.  Titmarsh,  I  am  quite  at  a  loss  to  understand  you." 

As  we  jiassed  a  gas-lamp,  I  saw  Lady  Fanny  laughing  as  usual, 
and  turning  her  great  arch  sparkling  black  eyes  at  Lord  Tiptolll 


38       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

"  Why,  Lady  Jane,"  said  he,  "  if  the  truth  must  out,  the  great 
haunch  of  venison  trick  wa^  one  of  this  young  lady's  performing. 
You  must  know  that  I  had  received  the  above-named  haunch  from 
Lord  Guttlebury's  park :  and  knowing  that  Preston  is  not  averse  to 
Guttlebury  venison,  was  telling  Lady  Drum  (in  whose  carnage  I 
had  a  seat  that  day,  as  Mr.  Titmarsh  was  not  in  the  way)  that  I 
intended  the  haunch  for  your  husl>and's  table.  Whereui)on  my 
Lady  Fanny,  clafiping  together  her  little  hands,  declared  an<l  vowed 
that  the  venison  should  not  go  to  Preston,  but  shouhl  be  sent  to  a 
gentleman  about  whose  adventures  on  the  day  previous  we  hud  just 
been  talking — to  Mr.  Titmarsh,  in  fact  :  whom  Preston,  a.s  Fanny 
vowed,  had  used  most  cruelly,  and  to  whom,  she  said,  a  reparation 
was  due.  So  my  Lady  Fanny  insists  upon  our  driving  straight 
to  my  rooms  in  the  Albany  (you  know  I  am  only  to  stay  in  my 
bachelor's  quarters  a  month  longer) " 

*'  Nonsense  ! "  says  Lady  Fanny, 

" — Insists  upon  driving  straight  to  my  chamlx'rs  in  the  Allxmy, 
extracting  thence  the  above-named  haunch " 

"Grandmamma  was  very  sorry  to  part  with  it,"  cries  La<ly 
Fanny, 

"  — And  then  she  orders  as  to  proceed  to  Mr.  Titmarsli's  house 
in  the  City,  where  the  venison  was  left,  in  company  with  a  couple 
of  baskets  of  fruit  bought  at  Grange's  by  La<ly  Faiuiy  herself." 

"  And  what  was  more,"   said   Lady  Fanny,    "  I  made  gran<l- 

mamma  go  into  Fr into  Lord  Tiptofl's  nxims,  and  »lictat«'d  out 

of  my  own  mouth  the  letter  which  he  wrote,  and  piiuu'il  u]i  the 
haunch  of  venison  that  his  hideous  old  housekeeper  brouglit  us — I 
am  ciuite  jealous  of  her — I  pinned  up  the  haimch  of  venison  in  a 
copy  of  the  John  BuU  newspaper." 

It  hatl  one  of  the  Rimsbottom  letters  in  it,  I  remember,  which 
Gus  and  I  read  on  Sunday  at  breakfa.st,  and  Me  nearly  killed  our- 
selves with  laughing.  The  ladies  laughed  top  when  I  told  them 
this;  and  good-natured  Lady  Jane  sai<l  she  would  fon,nve  her  sister, 
and  hoped  I  would  too :  wliich  I  ]>roinised  to  do  a.s  often  a.^  her 
Ladyship  chose  to  repeat  the  otfence. 

I  never  had  any  more  veni.'^on  from  the  family  :  but  Til  tell  you 
what  I  had.  About  a  month  after  came  a  card  of  "  Lord  and  Lady 
Tiptoff,"  and  a  great  piece  of  plum-cake ;  of  which,  I  am  sorry  to 
say,  Gus  ate  a  great  deal  too  much. 


CHAPTER  VI 

OF  THE   WEST  DIDDLESEX  ASSOCIATION,   AND   OF   THE 
EFFECT  THE  DIAMOND  HAD  THERE 

WELL,  the  magic  of  the  pin  was  not  ov^er  yet.  Very  soon 
after  Mrs.  Brough's  grand  party,  our  director  called  nie 
up  to  Ids  room  at  the  West  Diddlesex,  and  after  examin- 
ing my  accounts,  and  siieaking  a  -wlnle  alx»it  business,  said,  "  That's 
a  very  fine  diamond-pin.  Master  Titmai-sh  "  (he  spoke  in  a  grave 
patronising  way),  "and  I  called  you  on  purpose  to  speak  to  you 
upon  the  subject.  I  do  not  object  to  seeing  the  young  men  of  this 
establishment  well  and  handsomely  dressed ;  but  I  know  that  their 
salaries  cannot  afford  ornaments  like  those,  and  I  grieve  to  see  you 
with  a  thing  of  such  value.  You  have  i)aid  for  it,  sir, — I  trust  you 
have  paid  for  it ;  for,  of  all  things,  my  dear — dear  young  friend, 
beware  of  debt." 

I  could  not  conceive  why  Brougli  was  reading  me  this  lecture 
about  debt  and  my  having  bought  the  diamond-pin,  as  I  knew  that 
he  had  been  asking  about  it  already,  and  how  I  came  by  it — • 
Abednego  told  me  so.  "Why,  sir,"  says  I,  "Mr.  Abednego  told 
me  that  he  had  told  you  that  I  had  told  him " 

"Oh,  ay — by-the-bye,  now  I  recollect,  Mr.  Titmarsh — I  do 
recollect — yes ;  though  I  su])pose,  sir,  you  will  imagine  that  I 
have  other  more  important  things  to  remember." 

"  Oh,  sir,  in  course,"  says  I. 

"  That  one  of  the  clerks  did  say  something  about  a  pin — that 
one  of  the  other  gentlemen  had  it.  And  so  your  pin  was  given  you, 
was  it  ? " 

"  It  was  given  me,  sir,  by  my  aunt,  Mrs.  Hoggarty  of  Castle 
Hoggarty,"  said  I,  raising  my  voice ;  for  I  was  a  little  i)roud  of 
Castle  Hoggarty. 

"  She  nuist  be  very  rich  to  make  such  presents,  Titmarsh  1 " 

"  Why,  thank  you",  sir,"  says  I,  "  she  is  pretty  well  off.  Foiu- 
hundred  a  year  jointure ;  a  farm  at  Sloppertou,  sir ;  three  houses 
at  Squa.shtail ;  and  three  thousand  two  hundred  loose  cash  at  the 
banker's,  as  I  happen  to  know,  sir, — that's  all." 

I  did  hai»pen  to  know  this,  you  sec ;  because,  while  I  wa^  down 


40       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

in  Somersetshire,  Mr.  MacManus,  my  aunt's  agent  in  Ireland, 
wrote  to  say  that  a  mortgage  she  had  on  Lord  Brallaghan's  property 
had  just  been  paid  off,  and  that  the  money  was  lodged  at  Coutts's. 
Ireland  was  in  a  very  disturbed  state  in  those  days ;  and  my  aunt 
wisely  determined  not  to  invest  her  money  in  that  country  an> 
more,  but  to  look  out  for  some  good  security  in  England.  However, 
as  she  had  always  received  six  per  cent,  in  Ireland,  she  would  not 
hear  of  a  smaller  interest ;  and  had  warned  me,  as  I  was  a  com- 
mercial man,  on  coming  to  town,  to  look  out  for  some  means  by 
which  she  could  invest  her  money  at  that  rate  at  least. 

"  And  how  do  you  come  to  know  i\Irs.  Hoggarty's  property  so 
accurately  1 "  said  Mr.  Brough  ;  upon  which  I  told  him. 

"Good  heavens,  sir !  and  do  you  mean  that  you,  a  clerk  in  the 
West  Diddlesex  Insurance  Office,  applied  to  by  a  respectable  lady 
as  to  the  manner  in  whicli  she  should  invest  property,  never  spoke 
to  her  about  the  Company  which  you  have  the  honour  to  serve? 
Do  you  mean,  sir,  that  you,  knowing  there  was  a  bonus  of  five  per 
cent,  for  yourself  upon  shares  taken,  did  not  press  Mrs.  Hoggarty  to 
join  us  1 " 

"  Sir,"  says  I,  "  I'm  an  honest  man,  and  would  not  take  a  bonus 
from  my  own  relation." 

"  Honest  I  know  you  are,  my  boy — give  me  your  hand !  So 
am  I  honest — so  is  every  man  in  this  Company  honest ;  but  we 
must  be  prudent  as  Avell.  We  have  five  millions  of  capital  on  our 
books,  as  you  see — five  bond  Jide  millions  of  bond  fide  sovereigns 
paid  up,  sir — there  is  no  dishonesty  there.  But  why  should  we  not 
have  twenty  millions — a  liundred  millions  ?  Why  should  not  this 
be  the  greatest  commercial  Association  in  the  world? — as  it  shall 
be,  sir, — it  shall,  as  sure  as  my  name  is  Jolm  Brough,  if  Heaven 
bless  my  honest  endeavours  to  establish  it !  But  do  you  suppose 
that  it  can  be  so,  unless  every  man  among  us  use  his  utmost 
exertions  to  forward  the  success  of  the  enterprise?  Never,  sir, — 
never;  and,  for  me,  I  say  so  everywhere.  I  glory  in  what  I  do. 
There  is  not  a  house  in  which  I  enter,  but  I  leave  a  prospectus  of 
the  West  Diddlesex.  There  is  not  a  single  tradesman  I  employ, 
but  has  shares  in  it  to  some  amount.  My  servants,  sir, — my  very 
servants  and  grooms,  are  bound  u])  with  it.  And  the  first  question 
I  ask  of  any  one  who  applies  to  me  for  a  place  is.  Are  you  insured  or 
a  shareholder  in  the  West  Diddlesex  1  the  second,  Have  you  a  good 
character?  And  if  the  first  question  is  answered  in  the  negative, 
I  say  to  the  party  coming  to  me.  Then  he  a  shareholder  before  you 
ask  for  a  place  in  my  household.  Did  you  not  see  me — me,  John 
Brough,  whose  name  is  good  for  millions — step  out  of  my  coach-and- 
four  into  this  office,  with  four  pounds  nineteen,  which  I  paid  in  to 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     41 

Mr.  Roundhaiid  as  the  price  of  half  a  share  for  the  porter  at  my 
lodge-gate^  Did  you  remark  that  I  deducted  a- shilling  from  the 
five  pound  1 " 

"Yes,  sir;  it  was  the  day  you  drew  out  eight  hundred  and 
seventy-three  ten  and  six — Thursday  week,"  says  I. 

"  And  why  did  I  deduct  that  shilling,  sir  ?  Because  it  was  mij 
commission — John  Brough's  commission ;  honestly  earned  by  him, 
and  openly  taken.  Was  there  any  disguise  about  it  ?  No.  Did  I 
do  it  for  the  love  of  a  shilling  1  No,"  says  Brough,  laying  his  hand 
on  his  heart,  "I  did  it  from  ■princi2)le, — from  that  motive  which 
guides  every  one  of  my  actions,  as  I  can  look  up  to  Heaven  and 
say.  I  wish  all  ray  young  men  to  see  my  example,  and  follow  it : 
I  wish — I  pray  that  they  may.  Think  of  that  example,  sir.  That 
porter  of  mine  has  a  sick  wife  and  nine  young  children  :  he  is  himself 
a  sick  man,  and  his  tenure  of  life  is  feeble ;  he  has  earned  money, 
sir,  in  my  service — sixty  pounds  and  more — it  is  all  his  children 
have  to  look  to — all :  but  for  that,  in  the  event  of  his  deatli,  they 
would  be  houseless  beggars  in  the  street.  And  what  have  I  done 
for  that  family,  sir^  I  have  put  tliat  money  out  of  the  reach  of 
Robert  Gates,  and  placed  it  so  that  it  shall  be  a  blessing  to  his 
fanuly  at  his  death.  Every  ferthiiig  is  invested  in  shares  in  this 
office ;  and  Robert  Gates,  my  lodge-porter,  is  a  holder  of  three  shares 
in  the  West  Diddlesex  Association,  and,  in  that  capacity,  your  master 
and  mine.     Do  you  think  I  want  to  cheat  Gates  '\ " 

"  Oh,  sir  !  "  says  I. 

"  To  cheat  that  poor  helpless  man,  and  those  tender  innocent 
children  ! — you  can't  think  so,  sir ;  I  should  be  a  disgrace  to  human 
nature  if  I  did  But  what  boots  all  my  energy  and  perseverance  ] 
What  though  I  place  my  friends'  money,  my  family's  money,  my 
own  money — my  hopes,  wishes,  desires,  ambitions — all  upon  this 
enterprise"?  You  young  men  will  }iot  do  so.  You,  whom  I  treat 
with  love  and  confidence  as  my  children,  make  no  return  to  me. 
When  I  toil,  you  remain  still ;  when  I  struggle,  you  look  on.  Say 
the  word  at  once, — you  douht  me  !  0  heavens,  that  this  should  be 
the  rewar<l  of  all  my  care  and  love  for  you  !  " 

Here  Mr.  Brough  was  so  affected  that  he  actually  burst  into 
tears,  and  I  confess  I  saw  in  its  true  light  the  negligence  of  which 
I  had  been  guilty. 

"  Sir,"  says  I,  "  I  am  very — very  sorry :  it  was  a  matter  of 
delicacy,  rather  than  otherwise,  which  induced  me  not  to  speak  to 
my  aunt  about  the  West  Diddlesex." 

"Dehcacy,  my  dear  dear  boy — as  if  there  can  be  any  delicacy 
about  making  your  aunt's  fortune !  Say  indifference  to  me,  say 
ingratitude,  say  folly, — but  don't  say  delicacy — no,  no,   not   deli- 


42       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

cacy.  Be  honest,  ray  boy,  and  call  things  by  their  right  names — • 
always  do." 

"It  was  folly  and  ingratitude,  Mr,  Brough,"  says  I:  "I  see  it 
all  now ;  and  I'll  write  to  my  aunt  this  very  post." 

"  You  had  better  do  no  such  thing,"  says  Brough  bitterly  :  "the 
stocks  are  at  ninety,  and  Mrs.  Hoggarty  can  get  three  per  cent,  for 
her  money." 

"  I  will  Avi-ite,  sir, — upon  my  word  and  honour,  I  will 
write." 

"  Well,  a.s  your  honour  is  passed,  you  must,  I  suppose ;  for 
never  break  your  word — no,  not  in  a  triile,  Titmarsh.  Send  me  up 
the  letter  when  you  have  done,  and  I'll  frank  it — upon  my  word 
and  honour  I  will,"  says  Mr.  Brough,  laughing,  and  holding  out  his 
hand  to  me. 

I  took  it,  and  he  pressed  mine  very  kindly — "  You  may  as  well 
sit  down  here,"  says  he,  ;xs  he  kei)t  hold  of  it ;  "  there  is  plenty  of 
paper." 

And  so  I  sat  down  and  mended  a  beautiful  pen,  and  began  and 
wrote,  "  Independent  West  Diddlesex  Association,  June  1822,"  and 
"  My  dear  Aunt,"  in  the  best  manner  possible.  Then  I  paused  a 
little,  thinking  what  I  should  next  say ;  for  I  have  always  found 
that  difficulty  about  letters.  The  date  and  My  dear  So-and-so  one 
writes  off  immediately — it  is  the  next  part  which  is  hard ;  and  I 
put  my  pen  in  my  mouth,  tiung  myself  back  in  my  chair,  and  began 
to  think  about  it. 

"  Bah  !  "  said  Brough,  "  are  you  going  to  be  about  this  letter  all 
day,  my  good  fellow?  Listen  to  me,  and  I'll  dictate  to  you  in  a 
moment."     So  he  began  : — - 

"  '  My  dear  Aunt, — Since  my  return  from  Somersetshire,  I  am 
very  hapi)y  indeed  to  tell  you  that  I  have  so  pleased  the  managing 
director  of  our  Association  and  the  Board,  that  they  have  been  good 
enough  to  appoint  me  third  clerk '  " 

"  Sir  !  "  says  I. 

"  Write  what  I  say.  Mr.  Roundhand,  as  has  been  agreed  by 
the  board  yesterday,  quits  the  clerk's  desk  and  takes  the  title  of 
secretary  and  actuary.  Mr.  Highmore  takes  his  place ;  Mr. 
Abednego  follows  him ;  and  I  place  you  as  third  clerk — as  '  tliird 
clerk  (write),  with  a  salaiy  of  a  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  per 
aimum.  This  news  will,  I  know,  gratify  my  dear  mother  and  you, 
who  have  been  a  second  mother  to  me  all  my  life. 

'  When  I  was  last  at  home,  I  rememlier  you  consulted  me  as  to 
the  best  mode  of  laying  out  a  sum  of  money  which  was  lying  useless 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     43 

in  your  banker's  hands.  I  have  since  lost  no  opportunity  of  gaining 
what  information  I  could :  and  situated  here  as  I  am,  in  the  very 
midst  of  affairs,  I  believe,  although  very  young,  I  am  as  good  a 
person  to  apply  to  as  many  others  of  greater  age  and  standing. 

'  I  frequently  thought  of  mentioning  to  you  our  Association,  but 
feelings  of  delicacy  prevented  me  from  doing  so.  I  did  not  "wisli 
that  any  one  should  suppose  that  a  shallow  of  self-interest  could 
move  me  in  any  way. 

'But  I  believe,  without  any  sort  of  doubt,  that  the  West 
Diddlesex  Association  offers  the  best  security  that  you  can  expect 
for  your  capital,  and,  at  the  same  time,  the  highest  interest  you  can 
anywhere  procure. 

'  The  situation  of  the  Company,  as  I  have  it  from  the  very  best 
authority    (underline  that),  is  as  follows  : — 

'The    subscribed    and    bond  fide    capital    is    five    millions 

STERLING. 

'  The  body  of  directors  you  know.  Suffice  it  to  say  that  the 
managing  director  is  John  Brougli,  Esq.,  of  the  firm  of  Brough  and 
Hoff,  a  Member  of  Parliament,  and  a  man  as  well  known  a.s  Mr. 
Rothschild  in  the  City  of  London.  His  private  fortune,  I  know  for 
a  fact,  amounts  to  half  a  million ;  and  the  last  dividends  paid  to  the 
shareholders  of  the  I.  W.  D.  Association  amounted  to  6g  per  cent. 
per  annum.' 

[That  I  know  was  the  dividend  declared  by  us.] 

'  Altliough  the  shares  in  the  market  are  at  a  very  great  pre- 
mium, it  is  the  privilege  of  the  four  first  clerks  to  dispose  of  a 
certain  number  £5000  each  at  par ;  and  if  you,  my  dearest  aunt, 
would  wish  for  £2500  worth,  I  hope  you  will  allow  me  to  oblige 
you  by  offermg  you  so  much  of  my  new  privileges. 

'  Let  me  hear  from  you  immediately  upon  the  subject,  as  I  have 
already  an  offer  for  the  whole  amount  of  my  shares  at  market  price.'" 

"  But  I  haven't,  sir,"  says  I. 

"  You  have,  sir.  /  will  take  the  shares ;  but  I  want  you.  I 
want  as  many  respectable  persons  in  the  Company  as  I  can  bring. 
I  want  you  because  I  like  you,  and  I  don't  mind  telling  you  i\v:X  I 
have  views  of  my  own  as  well ;  for  I  am  an  honest  man  and  say 
openly  what  I  mean,  and  I'll  tell  you  why  I  want  you.  I  can't,  by 
the  regulations  of  the  Company,  have  more  than  a  certain  number 
of  votes,  but  if  your  aunt  takes  shares,  I  expect— I  don't  mir.d 
owning  it — that  "she  will  vote  witli  me.  Now  do  you  understand 
mel     My  object  is  to  be  all  in  all  with  the  Company ;  and  if  I  be, 


44       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

I  will  make  it  the  most  glorious  enterprise  that  ever  was  conducted 
in  tlie  City  of  London." 

So  I  signed  the  letter  and  left  it  Anth  Mr.  B.  to  frank. 

The  next  day  I  went  and  took  my  place  at  the  third  clerk's 
desk,  being  led  to  it  by  Mr.  B.,  who  made  a  speech  to  the  gents, 
much  to  the  annoyance  of  the  other  chaps,  who  grumbled  about 
their  services  :  though,  a.s  fir  the  matter  of  that,  our  services  were 
very  much  alike  :  the  Comjiany  was  only  three  years  old,  and  the 
oldest  clerk  in  it  had  not  six  months'  more  standing  in  it  than  I. 
"Look  out,"  said  that  envious  M'Whirter  to  me.  "  Have  you  got 
money,  or  have  any  of  your  relations  money  1  or  are  any  of  them 
going  to  jiut  it  into  the  concern?" 

I  did  not  think  fit  to  answer  him,  but  took  a  pinch  out  of  his 
mull,  and  was  always  kind  to  him  ;  and  he,  to  say  the  truth,  was 
always  most  civil  to  me.  As  for  Gus  Hoskins,  he  began  to  think 
I  was  a  superior  being ;  and  I  must  say  that  the  rest  of  the  cha]»s 
behaved  very  kindly  in  the  matter,  and  said  that  if  one  man  were  to 
be  put  over  tlicir  heads  before  another,  they  would  liave  jntched 
u{»oii  me,  for  I  had  never  banned  any  of  them,  and  done  little 
kindnesses  to  several. 

"  I  know,"  says  Abednego,  "  how  you  got  the  place.  It  was  I 
who  got  it  you.  I  told  Rrough  yoti  were  a  cousin  of  Preston's,  the 
Lord  of  the  Treasury,  had  venison  from  him  and  all  that;  and 
depend  upon  it  he  expects  that  you  will  be  able  to  do  him  some 
good  in  that  tpiarter." 

1  think  there  w;us  some  likelihood  in  what  Alwdnego  said,  because 
our  govenior,  as  we  called  him,  fre(|Uontly  sjioke  to  me  alxiut  my 
cousin ;  told  me  to  j)ush  the  concern  in  the  West  End  of  the  town, 
get  as  many  noblemen  as  we  could  to  insure  with  us,  and  so  on. 
It  was  in  vain  I  said  I  eoidd  do  nothing  with  Mr.  Preston.  "Bah  ! 
bah ! "  says  Mr.  Brough,  "  don't  tell  7ne.  People  don't  send 
haunches  of  venison  to  you  for  notlsing ; "  and  I'm  convineed  he 
thought  I  was  a  very  cautious  ]iruilent  fellow,  for  not  bragging 
alK)ut  my  great  family,  and  keeping  my  connection  with  them  a 
secret.  To  be  sure  he  might  have  learned  the  truth  from  Gus, 
who  lived  with  me  ;  but  Gus  woidd  insist  that  I  was  hand  in 
glove  with  all  the  nobility,  and  boasted  about  me  ten  times  as 
much  as  I  did  myself 

The  chaps  used  to  call  me  the  "  "West  Ender." 

"  See,"  thought  I,  "  what  I  have  gained  by  Aunt  Hoggarty 
giving  me  a  diamond-pin  !  "What  a  lucky  thing  it  is  that  slie  did 
not  give  me  the  money,  as  I  hoped  she  would  !  Had  I  not  had  the 
pin — had  I  even  taken  it  to  any  other  person  but  Mr.  Polonius, 
Laily  Drum  would  never  have  noticed  me ;  had  Lady  Drum  never 


AND    THE    GREAT   HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     45 

noticed  me,   Mr.   Brough  never  would,   and  I  never  should  have 
been  third  clerk  of  the  West  Diddlesex." 

I  took  heart  at  all  tliis,  and  wrote  otf  on  the  very  evening  of 
my  appointment  to  my  dearest  Mary  Smith,  giving  her  warning 
that  a  "certain  event,"  for  which  one  of  us  was  longing  very 
earnestly,  miglit  come  off  sooner  than  we  had  expected.  And  why 
not?  Miss  S.'s  own  fortune  was  £70  a  year,  mine  was  £150,  and 
when  we  had  £300,  we  always  vowed  we  would  marry.  '■  Ah  ! " 
thought  I,  "  if  I  could  but  go  to  Somersetslnre  now,  I  might  boldly 
walk  up  to  old  Smith's  door  "  (he  was  her  gramlfather,  and  a  half- 
pay  lieutenant  of  the  navy),  "  I  might  knock  at  the  knocker  and 
see  my  beloved  Mary  in  the  parlour,  and  not  be  obliged  to  sneak 
behind  hayricks  on  the  look-out  for  her,  or  jielt  st(Mies  at  midnight 
at  her  window." 

My  aunt,  in  a  few  days,  Avrote  a.  pretty  gracious  reply  to  my 
letter.  She  had  not  determined,  she  said,  as  to  the  manner  in 
which  she  should  employ  her  three  thousand  pounds,  but  should 
take  my  otter  into  consideration;  begging  me  to  keep  my  shares 
open  for  a  httle  while,  until  her  mind  was  made  up. 

AVhat,  then,  does  Mr.  Brough  do?  I  learned  afterwards,  in  the 
year  1830,  wlien  he  and  tlie  West  Diddlesex  Association  had  dis- 
appeared altogether,  how  he  had  proceeded. 

"  Who  are  the  attorneys  at  Slopperton  ? "  says  he  to  me  in  a 
careless  way. 

"Mr.  Ruck,  sir,"  says  I,  "is  the  Tory  solicitor,  and  Messrs. 
Hodge  and  Smithers  the  Liberals."  I  knew  them  very  well,  for  the 
fact  is,  before  Mary  Smitli  came  to  live  in  our  jiarts,  I  was  rather 
partial  to  Miss  Hodge,  and  her  gi-eat  gold-coloured  ringlets;  but 
Mary  came  and  soon  i)ut  her  nose  out  of  joint,  as  the  saying  is. 
"  And  you  are  of  what  i)olitics  1 " 

"  Why,  sir,  we  are  Liberals."  T  was  rather  ashamed  of  this, 
for  Mr.  Brough  was  an  out-and-out  Tory  ;  bat  Hodge  and  Smith- 
ers is  a  most  respectable  ttnu.  I  brought  up  a  packet  from  them 
to  Hickson,  Dixon,  Paxton  and  Jackson,  our  solicitors,  who  are 
their  London  correspondents. 

Mr.  Brough  only  said,  "  OIi,  indeed!"  and  did  not  talk  any 
further  on  the  subject,  but  began  admiring  my  diamond-pin  very 
much. 

"  Titmarsh,  my  dear  boy,"  says  he, "  I  have  a  young  lady  at 
Fnlham  who  is  worth  seeing,  I  assure  you,  and  who  has  heard  so 
much  about  you  from  her  father  (for  I  like  yon,  my  boy,  I  don't 
care  to  own  it),  that  she  is  rather  anxious  to  see  you  too.  Suppose 
you  come  down  to  us  for  a  week  ?    Abednego  will  do  your  work." 

"Law,  sir!  you  are  very  kind,"  says  L 
6 


46       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

'•Well,  you  shall  come  down;  and  I  hope  you  -will  like  my 
claret.  But  hark  ye !  I  don't  think,  my  dear  fellow,  you  are 
quite  smart  enough — quite  well  enough  dressed.  Do  you  under- 
stand mc  r' 

"  I've  my  blue  coat  and  brass  buttons  at  home,  sir." 

"  What !  that  thing  with  the  waist  between  your  shoulders 
that  you  wore  at  Mrs.  Brough's  party]"  (It  was  rather  higli- 
waisted,  being  made  in  the  country  two  years  before.)  "  No — no, 
that  will  never  do.  Get  some  new  clothes,  sir, — two  new  suits  of 
clothes." 

"Sir!"  says  T,  "I'm  already,  if  the  truth  must  be  told,  very 
short  of  money  for  this  quarter,  ami  can't  afford  myself  a  new  suit 
for  a  long  time  to  come." 

"  Pooh,  pooh  !  don't  let  that  annoy  you.     Here's  a  ten-pound 

note but  no,  on  second  thoughts,  you  may  as  well  go  to  my 

tailor's.  I'll  drive  you  dowTi  there :  and  never  mind  the  bill,  my 
good  lad!"  And  drive  me  dorn  he  actually  did,  in  liis  grand 
coach-and-four,  to  Mr.  Yon  Stiltz,  in  Clifford  Street,  who  tiM)k  my 
measure,  and  sent  me  home  two  of  the  finest  coats  ever  seen,  a 
dress-coat  and  a  frock,  a  velvet  waistcoat,  a  silk  ditto,  and  three 
pairs  of  pantaloons,  of  the  most  beautiful  make.  Brough  told  me 
to  get  some  boots  and  pumps,  and  silk  stockings  for  evenings  ;  so 
that  when  the  time  came  for  n)e  to  go  down  to  Fulham,  I  ajijiearcd 
as  handsome  as  any  young  nobleman,  and  Gus  said  tliat  "I  looketl, 
by  Jingo,  like  a  regular  tijjtop  swell." 

In  the  meantime  the  following  letter  had  been  sent  down  to 
Hodge  and  Smithers  : — 


"Ram  Alley,  Counhill,  London :  July  1822. 


"  Dear  Sirs 


[This  part  being  on  private  affairs 

relative  to  the  cases  of 

Dixon  V.  Haggerstony, 

Snodgrass  v.  Rubbidge  and  another, 

I  am  not  permitted 

to  extract.] 

■  >  •  •  • 

"  Likewise  we  teg  to  hand  you  a  few  more  prospectuses  of  the 
Independent  West  Diddlesex  Fire  and  Life  Insurance  Company,  of 
which  we  have  the  honour  to  be  the  solicitors  in  London.  We 
wrote  to  you  hist  year,  requesting  you  to  accept-  the  Slopperton 
and  Somerset  agency  for  the  same,  and  have  been  expecting  for 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     47 

some  time  back  that  either  shares  or  assurances  should  be  effected 
by  you. 

"  The  cajiital  of  the  Company,  as  you  know,  is  five  milUons 
sterling  (say  £5,000,000),  and  we  are  in  a  situation  to  offer  more 
than  tire  usual  commission  to  our  agents  of  the  legal  profession. 
"We  shall  be  hajiiiy  to  give  a  premium  of  C  per  cent,  for  shares  to 
the  amount  of  .£1000,  6^  per  cent,  above  a  thousand,  to  be  paid 
imme<liatoly  upon  the  taking  of  the  shares. — I  am,  dear  sirs,  for 
self  and  partners,  yours  most  faithfully, 

•'  Samuel  Jacksok." 

This  letter,  as  I  have  said,  came  into  my  hands  some  time 
afterwards.  I  knew  nothing  of  it  in  the  year  1822,  when,  in  my 
new  suit  of  clothes,  I  'went  down  to  pass  a  week  at  the  Rookery, 
Fulham,  residence  of  John  Brough,  Esquire,  M.P. 


CHAPTER   VII 

HOr  SA^{UEL   TITMARSH  REACHED   THE  HIGHEST  POIWT 

OF  PROSPERITY 

IF  I  liad  the  pen  of  a  George  Robin.s,  I  might  describe  the  RtX)kery 
]in)ju'rly:  snttice  it,  Imwcver,  to  say  it  is  a  very  handsome 
country  i)larL' ;  witii  liandsomc  lawns  slojnng  down  tr>  the  river, 
handsome  shrubberies  and  conservatories,  tine  8tal)les,  outhouses, 
kitchen-gardens,  and  everything  belonging  to  a  first-rate  rus  in  urbe, 
as  the  great  auctioneer  called  it  when  he  hammered  it  down  some 
years  after. 

I  arrived  on  a  Saturday  at  lialf-an-hour  before  dinner :  a  grave 
gentleman  out  of  livery  showed  nie  to  my  room  ,  a  man  in  a  chocolate 
coat  and  gold  lace,  with  Brough's  crest  on  the  buttons,  brouirht  me 
a  silver  shaving-jtot  of  hot  water  on  a  silver  tray;  and  a  grand  <linner 
was  reiuly  at  six,  at  which  I  had  the  honour  of  apiK'uriug  in  Vou 
Stiltz's  dress-co;it  and  my  new  silk  st<K'kini:s  and  j)um]»s. 

Brough  took  nic  by  the  hand  as  I  came  in,  and  presented  me  to 
his  lady,  a  stout  fair-haired  woman,  in  light  blue  sj\tin  ;  then  to  his 
daughter,  a  tall,  thin,  dark-<'yed  girl,  with  beetle-brows,  looking  very 
ill-natured,  and  about  eighteen. 

"  Belinda  my  love,"  s;iid  her  i'ai>a,  "  this  young  gentleman  is 
one  of  my  clerks,  who  was  at  our  ball." 

"Oh,  indeed  !  "  says  Belinda,  tossing  uj)  her  head. 

''  But  not  a  common  clerk.  Miss  Belinda, — so,  it  you  please, 
we  will  have  none  of  your  aristocratic  aii-s  with  him.  He  is  a 
nephew  of  the  Countess  of  Drum  ;  and  I  hope  he  will  soon  be  very 
high  in  our  establishment,  and  in  the  City  of  London." 

At  tlie  name  of  Countess  (I  had  a  dozen  times  rectified  tiie  error 
about  our  relationship),  Mi.ss  Belinda  made  a  low  curtsey,  and  stared 
at  me  very  hard,  and  .s;iid  she  would  try  and  make  the  Rookery 
pleasant  to  any  friend  of  jtapa's.  "  Wc  have  not  much  monde  tiv 
day,"' continued  ^liss  Brough,  "and  arc  o\\\y  \\\  petit  comite  ;  but 
I  hope  before  you  leave  us  you  will  see  some  socie'te  that  will  make 
your  se/our  agreeable." 

I  saw  at  once  that  she  was  a  fashionable  girl,  from  her  using 
the  French  language  in  this  way. 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY   DIAMOND     49 

"  Isn't  she  a  fine  girl  1 "  said  Brougli,  whispering  to  me,  and  evi- 
dently as  proud  of  her  as  a  naan  could  be.  "  Isn't  she  a  fine  girl 
— eh,  you  dog  1     Do  you  see  breeding  like  that  in  Somersetshire "? " 

"  No,  sir,  upon  my  -word  ! "  answered  I,  rather  slyly ;  for  I  was 
thinking  all  the  while  how  "Somebody"  was  a  thousand  times 
more  beautiful,  simple,  and  ladylike. 

"  And  Avhat  has  my  dearest  love  been  doing  all  day  1 "  said  her 
papa. 

"  Oh,  pa  !  I  have  2^incM  the  harp  a  little  to  Captain  Fizgig's 
flute.     Ditbi't  I,  Captain  Fizgig?" 

Captain  the  Honourable  Francis  Fizgig  said,  "Yes,  Brough, 
your  fair  daughter  jnnc^'^i  the  harp,  and  touched  the  piano,  and 
egrati(jned  the  guitar,  and  Scorched  a  song  or  two ;  and  we  had  the 
pleasure  of  a  promenade  a  Veau, — of  a  walk  upon  the  water." 

"Law,  Captain  !"  cries  Mrs.  Brough,  "walk  on  the  water?" 

"  Hush,  mamma,  you  don't  understand  Frencli ! "  says  Miss 
Belinda,  with  a  sneer. 

"  It's  a  sad  disadvantage,  madam,"  says  Fizgig  gravely ;  "  and 
I  rcconuuend  you  and  Brough  here,  who  are  coming  out  in  the  great 
world,  to  have  sinne  lessons ;  or  at  least  get  up  a  couple  of  dozen 
phrases,  and  introduce  them  into  your  conversation  here  and  there. 
I  sui)pose,  sir,  you  s])eak  it  conunonly  at  the  office,  Mr.  What-you- 
call-it  ? "  And  Mr.  Fizgig  put  his  glass  into  his  eye,  and  looked 
at  me. 

"  We  speak  English,  sir,"  says  I,  "  knowing  it  better  than 
French," 

"  Everybody  has  not  had  your  opportunities.  Miss  Brough," 
continued  the  gentleman.  "  Everybody  has  not  voyage  like  nous 
autres,  hey  1  Mais  que  voulez-vous,  my  good  sir  ?  you  must  stick 
to  your  cursed  ledgers  and  things.  What's  the  French  for  ledger, 
Miss  Belinda?" 

"  How  can  you  ask  ?     Je  rCen  SQais  rien,  I'm  sure." 

"You  should  learn.  Miss  Brough,"  said  her  father.  "The 
daughter  of  a  British  merchant  need  not  be  ashamed  of  the  means 
by  which  her  father  gets  his  bread.  Fm  not  ashamed — I'm  not 
proud.  Those  who  know  John  Brough,  know  that  ten  years  ago 
he  was  a  poor  clerk  like  my  friend  Titmarsh  here,  and  is  now  worth 
half  a  million.  Is  there  any  man  in  the  House  better  listened  to 
than  John  Brough?  Is  there  any  duke  in  the  land  that  can 
give  a  better  dinner  than  John  Brough;  or  a  larger  fortune  to 
his  daughter  than  John  Brough?  Why,  sir,  the  humble  person 
now  speaking  to  you  could  buy  out  many  a  German  duke ! 
But  I'm  not  proud — no,  no,  not  proud.  There's  my  daughter — 
look  at  her — when  I  die  she  will  be  mistress  of  my  fortune ;  but 


50      THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

am  I  proud  1  No  !  Let  him  who  can  win  lier,  marry  her.  that's 
what  I  say.  Be  it  you,  Mr.  Fiz.i,ag,  son  of  a  peer  of  the  reahn ;  or 
you,  Bill  Tidd.  Be  it  a  duke  or  a  shoeblack,  what  do  I  care,  hey? 
— what  do  I  care  1 " 

"  0-o-oh  !  "  si.i^hed  the  gent  who  went  by  the  name  of  Bill  Tidd  : 
a  very  pale  young  man,  with  a  black  riband  round  his  neck  instead 
of  a  handkerchief,  and  his  collars  turned  down  like  Lord  Byron. 
He  Avas  leaning  against  the  mantelpiece,  and  with  a  pair  of  great 
green  eyes  ogling  Miss  Brough  with  all  his  might. 

"  Oh,  John — my  dear  John  I "  cried  Mrs.  Brough,  seizing  her 
husband's   hand   and    kissing   it,    "you    are    an    angel,    that    you 


are 


"Isabella,  don't  flatter  me;  I'm  a  man, — a  ]ilain  downright 
citizen  of  London,  without  a  particle  of  pride,  excejit  in  you  and 
my  daughter  here — my  two  Bells,  as  I  call  them  !  Tliis  is  the  way 
that  we  live,  Titmarsli,  my  boy  :  ours  is  a  liajtpy,  humble.  Christian 
home,  and  tliat's  all.     Isal)ella,  leave  go  my  hand  1 " 

"  Mamma,  you  mustn't  do  so  before  comi)any ;  it's  o<lious  ! " 
shrieked  Miss  B. ;  and  mamma  quietly  let  the  hand  tall,  and  heaved 
from  her  ample  bosom  a  great  large  sigh.  I  felt  a  liking  for  that 
simple  woman,  and  a  respect  for  Brough  too.  He  couldn't  be  a 
bad  man,  whose  wife  loved  him  so. 

Dinner  was  soon  announced,  and  I  liad  the  honour  of  leading  in 
Miss  B.,  who  looked  back  ratiier  angrily,  I  thought,  at  Captain 
Fizgig,  because  that  gentleman  had  oHered  his  arm  to  Mrs.  Brough. 
He  sat  on  the  riglit  of  Mrs.  Brough,  and  Miss  flounced  down  on 
the  seat  next  to  him,  leaving  me  ami  Mr.  Tidd  to  take  our  places 
at  the  opposite  side  of  the  talile. 

At  dinner  there  was  turbot  and  souji  first,  ami  boiled  turkey 
afterwards,  of  course.  How  is  it  that  at  all  tlie  gi-eat  dinnei-s  they 
have  this  perpetual  boiled  turkey?  It  was  real  turtle-souji :  the 
firet  time  I  had  ever  tasted  it ;  and  I  remarked  how  Mrs.  B.,  who 
insisted  on  helping  it,  gave  all  the  green  lumps  of  fat  to  her 
husband,  and  i)ut  several  slices  of  the  breast  of  the  bird  ujider  the 
body,  until  it  came  to  his  turn  to  be  heli)ed. 

"  I'm  a  plain  man,"  says  John,  "  and  cat  a  plain  dinner.  I  hate 
your  kicksiiaws,  though  I  keep  a  French  cook  for  those  who  are 
not  of  my  way  of  thinking.  I'm  no  egotist,  look  you  ;  I've  no 
prejudices ;  and  Miss  there  has  her  bechamels  and  lallals  acconliug 
to  her  taste.     Captain,  try  the  volbf-vong" 

We  had  plenty  of  champagne  and  old  madeira  with  dinner,  and 
great  silver  tankards  of  porter,  which  those  might  take  who  chose. 
Brough  made  especially  a  boast  of  drinking  beer;  and,  when  the 
ladies  retired,  said,  "  Gentlemen,  Tiggins  will  give  you  an  unlimited 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     51 

supply  of  win^:  there's  no  stinting  here ; "  and  tlien  laid  hiinself 
down  in  his  easy-chair  and  fell  asleep. 

"  He  always  does  so,"  whispered  Mr.  Tidd  to  me. 

"Get  some  of  that  yellow-sealed  wine,  Tiggins,"  says  the 
Captain.  "  That  other  claret  we  had  yesterday  is  loaded,  and 
disagrees  with  me  infernally  ! " 

I  must  say  I  liked  the  yellow  seal  much  better  than  Aunt 
Hoggarty's  Rosolio. 

I  soon  found  out  what  Mr.  Tidd  was,  and  what  he  was  longing 
for. 

"  Isn't  she  a  glorious  creature  1 "  says  he  to  me. 

"  Who,  sir  ?  "\ays  I. 

"  Miss  Belinda,  to  be  sure  !  "  cried  Tidd.  "  Did  mortal  ever  look 
upon  eyes  like  hers,  or  view  a  more  sylph -like  figured " 

"She  might  have  a  little  more  flesh,  Mr.  Tidd,"  says  the  Captain, 
"  and  a  little  less  eyebrow.  They  look  vicious,  those  scowling  eye- 
brows, in  a  girl.  Qu'en  dites-vous,  Mr.  Titmarsh,  as  Miss  Brough 
■would  say  ? " 

"  I  think  it  remarkably  good  claret,  sir,"  says  I. 

"  Egad,  you're  the  right  sort  of  fellow  ! "  says  the  Captain. 
"  Volto  sciolto,  eh  ?     You  respect  our  sleeping  host  yonder  1 " 

"  That  I  do,  sir,  as  the  first  man  in  the  City  of  London,  and  my 
managing  director." 

"  And  so  do  I,"  says  Tidd ;  "  and  this  day  fortnight,  when  I'm 
of  age,  I'll  prove  my  confidence  too." 

"  As  how  1 "  says  I. 

"  Why,  sir,  you  nuist  know  that  I  come  into — ahem — a  consider- 
able property,  sir,  on  tlie  14th  of  July,  which  my  father  made — in 
business." 

"  Say  at  once  he  was  a  tailor,  Tidd." 

•'  He  was  a  tailor,  sir, — but  what  of  that  ?  I've  had  a  University 
education,  and  have  the  feelings  of  a  gentleman ;  as  much — ay, 
perhaps,  and  more  than  some  members  of  an  effete  aristocracy." 

"  Tidd,  don't  be  severe  ! "  says  the  Captain,  drinking  a  tenth 
glass. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Titmarsh,  when  of  age  I  come  into  a  considerable 
property ;  and  Mr.  Brough  has  been  so  good  as  to  say  he  can  get  me 
twelve  hundred  a  year  for  my  twenty  thousand  pounds,  and  I  have 
promised  to  invest  them." 

"  In  the  West  Diddlesex,  sir  1 "  says  I — "  in  our  office  ?  " 

"  No,  in  another  company,  of  which  Mr.  Brough  is  director,  and 
quite  as  good  a  thing.  Mr.  Brough  is  a  very  old  friend  of  my  family, 
sir,  and  he  has  taken  a  great  liking  to  me ;  and  he  says  that  with 
my  talents  I  ought  to  get  into  Parliament ;  and  then — and  then  ! 


52      THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

after  I  have  laid  out  my  patrimony,  I  may  look  to  matrimony, 
you  see ! " 

"  Oh  you  designing  dog  ! "  said  the  Captain.  "  "When  I  used 
to  hck  you  at  school,  who  ever  would  have  thought  that  I  was 
thrashing  a  sucking  statesman  1 ''' 

"  Talk  away,  boys  !  "  said  Brough,  waking  out  of  his  sleep  ;  "  I 
only  sleep  with  half  an  eye,  and  hear  you  all.  Yes,  you  shall  get 
into  Parliament,  Tidd,  my  man,  or  my  name's  not  Brough  !  You 
shall  have  six  per  cent,  for  your  money,  or  never  believe  me  !  But 
as  for  my  daugliter — ask  her,  and  not  mc.  You,  or  the  Captain,  or 
Titmarsh,  may  have  her,  if  you  can  get  her.  All  I  ask  in  a  son-in- 
law  is,  that  he  should  be,  as  evgry  one  of  you  is,  an  honourable  and 
high-minded  man  ! " 

Tidd  at  this  looked  very  knowing ;  and  as  our  host  sank  oflF  to 
sleep  again,  pointed  archly  at  his  eyebrows,  and  wagged  his  head  at 
the  Captain. 

"  Bah  ! "  says  the  Captain.  "  I  say  what  I  think  ;  and  you 
may  tell  Miss  Brough  if  you  like."  And  so  presently  this  conversa- 
tion ended,  and  we  were  summoned  in  to  coffee.  After  which  the 
Captain  sang  songs  with  Mi.ss  Brougli ;  Tidd  looked  at  her  and  .said 
nothing ;  I  looked  at  prints,  and  Mrs.  Brough  .«at  knitting  stockings 
for  the  poor.  The  Captain  was  sneering  ojionly  at  Miss  Brough  and 
her  affected  ways  and  talk  ;  but  in  sjjite  of  his  bullying  contemptuous 
way,  I  thought  she  seemed  to  have  a  great  regard  for  him,  and  to  l:>ear 
his  scorn  very  meekly. 

At  twelve  Captain  Fizgig  went  off  to  his  barracks  at  Kniglits- 
bridge,  and  Tidd  and  I  to  oiu-  rooms.  Next  day  bt-ing  Sundixy,  a 
great  bell  woke  us  at  eight,  and  at  nine  we  all  assembled  in  the 
breakfast-room,  where  Mr.  Brough  read  prayers,  a  chapter,  and  made 
an  exhortation  afterwards,  to  us  and  all  the  members  of  the  house- 
hold ;  except  the  French  cook,  Monsieur  Xontongjtaw,  whonz  I  could 
see,  from  my  chair,  walking  atx:»ut  in  the  shrubberies  in  his  white 
nightcap,  smoking  a  cigar. 

Every  morning  on  week-days,  punctually  at  eight,  Mr.  Brough 
went  through  the  same  ceremony,  and  had  his  family  to  prayers;  but 
though  this  man  was  a  hypocrite,  as  I  found  after«-ards,  I'm  not 
going  to  laugh  at  the  fixmily  prayers,  or  say  he  was  a  hyix>crite  because 
he  had  them.  There  are  many  bad  and  good  men  who  don't  go 
through  the  ceremony  at  all ;  but  I  am  sure  the  good  men  would  be 
the  better  for  it,  and  am  not  called  upon  to  settle  the  question 
with  respect  to  the  bad  ones ;  and  therefore  I  have  passed  over  a 
great  deal  of  the  religious  part  of  Mr.  Brough's  behaviour  :  suffice  it, 
that  religion  was  always  on  his  lips  ;  that  he  went  to  church  thrice 
every  Sunday,  when  he  had  not  a  party ;  and  if  he  did  not  talk 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     53 

religion  with  us  when  we  were  alone,  had  a  great  deal  to  say  upon 
the  subject  upon  occasions,  as  I  found  one  day  when  we  had  a  Quaker 
and  Dissenter  party  to  dine,  and  when  his  talk  was  as  grave  as  that 
of  any  minister  present.  Tidd  was  not  there  that  day, — for  nothing 
could  make  him  forsake  his  Byron  riband  or  refrain  from  wearing  his 
collars  turned  down  ;  so  Tidd  was  sent  with  tlie  buggy  to  Astley's. 
"  And  hark  ye,  Titmarsh,  my  boy,"  said  he,  "  leave  your  diamond-pin 
upstairs :  our  friends  to-day  don't  like  such  gewgaws ;  and  though 
for  my  part  I  am  no  enemy  to  harmless  ornaments,  yet  I  would  not 
shock  the  feelings  of  those  who  have  sterner  opinions.  You  will  see 
that  my  wife  and  Miss  Brough  consult  my  wishes  in  this  respect." 
And  so  they  did, — for  they  both  came  down  to  dinner  in  black  gowois 
and  tippets ;  whereas  Miss  B.  had  commonly  her  dress  half  off  her 
shoulders. 

The  Captain  rode  over  several  times  to  see  us;  and  Miss 
Brough  seemed  always  delighted  to  see  him.  One  day  I  met  him 
as  I  was  walking  out  alone  by  the  river,  and  we  had  a  long  talk 
together. 

"Mr.  Titmarsh,"  says  he,  "from  what  little  I  have  seen  of 
you,  you  seem  to  be  an  honest  straight-minded  young  fellow ;  and 
I  want  some  information  that  you  can  give.  Tell  me,  in  the  first 
place,  if  you  will — and  upon  my  honour  it  shall  go  no  forther — 
about  this  Insurance  Company  of  yours  ?  You  are  in  the  City, 
and  see  how  affairs  are  going  on.     Is  your  concern  a  stable  one  1 " 

"  Sir,"  said  I,  "  frankly  then,  and  upon  my  honour  too,  I 
believe  it  is.  It  has  been  set  up  only  four  years,  it  is  true ;  but 
Mr,  Brough  had  a  great  name  when  it  was  established,  and  a  vast 
connection:  Every  clerk  in  the  office  has,  to  be  sure,  in  a  manner, 
paid  for  his  place,  cither  by  taking  shares  himself,  or  by  his  rela- 
tions taking  them.  I  got  mine  because  my  mother,  who  is  very 
poor,  devoted  a  small  sum  of  money  that  came  to  us  to  the  purchase 
of  an  annuity  for  herself  and  a  provision  for  me.  The  matter  was 
debated  by  the  family  and  our  attorneys,  Messrs.  Hodge  and 
Smithers,  who  are  very  well  known  in  our  part  of  the  country ;  and 
it  was  agreed  on  all  hands  that  mv  mother  could  not  do  better  with 
her  money  for  all  of  us  than  invest  it  in  this  way.  Brough  alone 
is  worth  half  a  million  of  money,  and  his  name  is  a  host  in  itself. 
Nay,  more :  I  wrote  the  other  day  to  an  aunt  of  mine,  who  has  a 
considerable  sum  of  money  in  loose  cash,  and  who  had  consulted  me 
as  to  tlie  disposal  of  it,  to  invest  it  in  our  office.  Can  I  give  you 
any  better  proof  of  my  opinion  of  its  solvency  1 " 

"  Did  Brough  persuade  you  in  any  way "? " 

"  Yes,  he  certainly  spoke  to  me :  but  he  very  honestly  told 
me  his  motives,  and  tells  them  to  us  all  as  honestly.     He  says, 


54      THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

'Gentlemen,  it  is  my  object  to  increase  the  connection  of  the 
oflace,  as  much  as  possible.  I  want  to  criish  all  the  other  offices 
in  London.  Our  terms  are  lower  than  any  office,  and  we  can 
bear  to  laave  them  lower,  and  a  great  business  Avill  come  to  us  that 
way.  But  we  must  work  ourselves  a.s  well.  Every  single  share- 
hofder  and  officer  of  the  establishment  must  exert  himself,  and 
bring  us  customers, — no  matter  for  how  little  they  are  en.gaged 
— engage  them  :  that  is  the  great  point.'  And  accordingly  our 
Director  makes  all  his  friends  and  servants  shareholders  :  his  very 
lodge-porter  yonder  is  a  sharelioldcr ;  and  he  thus  endeavours  to 
fasten  upon  all  whom  he  comes  near.  I,  for  instance,  have  just 
been  appointed  over  the  heads  of  our  gents,  to  a  much  better  place 
than  I  held.  I  am  asked  down  here,  and  entertained  royally  :  and 
Avliy  1  Because  my  aunt  has  three  thousand  i)ounds  which  Mr. 
Brough  wants  lier  to  invest  with  us." 

"  That  looks  awkward,  Mr.  Titmarsh." 

"  Not  a  whit,  sir  :  he  makes  no  disguise  of  the  matter.  When 
the  question  is  settled  one  way  or  the  other,  I  don't  believe  Mr. 
Brough  will  take  any  further  notice  of  me.  But  he  wants  me  now. 
This  place  happened  to  fall  in  just  at  the  very  moment  when  he 
had  need  of  me  ;  and  he  hopes  to  gain  over  my  family  through  me. 
He  told  me  as  much  as  we  drove  down.  '  You  are  a  man  of  the 
world,  Titmarsh,'  said  he ;  '  you  know  that  I  don't  give  you  this 
place  because  you  are  an  honest  fellow,  and  write  a  good  haml.  If 
I  had  a  lesser  briV)e  to  ofter  you  at  the  moment,  I  should  only  liave 
given  you  that ;  but  I  had  no  choice,  and  gave  you  what  was  in 
my  power.' " 

"  That's  fair  enough ;  but  what  can  make  Brough  so  eager  for 
such  a  small  smn  as  three  thousand  pounds  ?  " 

"If  it  had  been  ten,  sir,  he  would  have  been  not  a  bit  more 
eager.  You  don't  know  the  City  of  London,  and  the  passion  which 
our  great  men  in  the  share-market  have  for  increa.^^ing  their  coiuiec- 
tion.  Mr.  Brough,  sir,  would  canvass  and  wheedle  a  chimney-sweep 
in  the  way  of  business.  Sec,  here  is  poor  Tidd  and  his  twenty 
thousand  pounds.  Our  Director  has  taken  po.sse.ssion  of  him  just  in 
the  same  way.     He  wants  all  the  capital  he  can  lay  his  hands  on." 

"  Yes,  and  suppose  he  runs  oti'  with  the  caitital  J  " 

"Mr.  Brough,  of  tlie  firm  of  Brough  and  Hotf,  sir?  Suppose 
the  Bank  of  England  runs  off !  But  here  we  are  at  the  lodge-gate. 
Let's  ask  Gates,  another  of  Mr.  Brough's  victims."  And  we  went 
in  and  spoke  to  old  Gates. 

"Well,  Mr.  Gates,"  says  I,  beginning  the  7natter  cleverly, 
"you  are  one  of  my  masters,  you  know,  at  the  West  L)iddlesex 
yonder ] " 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     55 

"Yees,  sure,"  says  old  Gates,  gi-iniiiiig.  He  was  a  retired 
servant,  with  a  large  familj-  come  to  him  in  his  old  age. 

"  ]\lay  I  ask  you  what  your  wages  are,  Mr.  Gates,  that  you  can 
lay  by  so  much  money,  and  purchase  shares  in  our  Company  1 " 

Gates  told  us  his  wages  ;  and  when  Ave  inquired  whether  they 
were  paid  regularly,  swore  that  his  master  was  the  kindest  gentle- 
man in  the  world  :  that  he  had  put  two  of  his  daughters  into 
sei-vice,  two  of  his  sons  to  charity  schools,  made  one  apprentice,  and 
narrated  a  hundred  other  benefits  that  he  had  received  from  tlie 
family.  Mrs.  Brough  clothed  half  the  children ;  master  gave  them 
blankets  and  coats  in  winter,  and  soup  and  meat  all  the  year  round. 
There  never  was  such  a  generous  family,  sure,  since  the  world  began. 

"Well,  sir,"  said  I  to  the  Captain,  "does  that  satisfy  you? 
Mr.  Brough  gives  to  these  people  fifty  times  as  much  as  lie  gains 
from  them ;  and  yet  he  makes  Mr.  Gates  take  shares  in  our 
Company." 

"  Mr.  Titmarsh,"  says  the  Captain,  "  you  are  an  honest  fellow  ; 
and  I  confess  your  argument  sounds  well.  Now  tell  me,  do  you 
know  anything  about  Miss  Brough  and  her  fortune  1 " 

"  Brough  will  leave  her  everything — or  says  so."  But  I  suppose 
the  Cajjtain  saw  some  jiarticular  expression  in  my  countenance,  for 
he  laughed  and  said — 

"  I  sup])ose,  my  dear  fellow,  you  think  she's  dear  at  the  price. 
Well,  I  don't  know  that  you  are  far  wrong." 

"  Why,  then,  if  I  may  make  so  bold.  Captain  Fizgig,  are  you 
always  at  lier  heels  1 " 

"  Mr.  Titmarsh,"  says  the  Cai)tain,  "  I  owe  twenty  thousand 
pounds ; "  a:id  he  went  back  to  the  house  directly,  and  proposed 
for  her. 

I  thought  this  rather  cruel  and  unprincii:)led  conduct  on  the 
gentleman's  i)art ;  for  he  had  been  introduced  to  the  family  by  ]\Ir. 
Tidd,  with  whom  he  had  been  at  school,  and  had  sui)i)Ianted  Tidd 
entirely  in  the  great  heiress's  aftections.  Brough  stormed,  and 
actually  swore  at  his  daughter  (as  the  Captain  told  me  afterwards) 
when  he  heard  that  the  latter  had  accepted  Mr.  Fizgig ;  and  at 
last,  seeing  the  Captain,  made  him  give  his  word  that  the  engage- 
ment should  be  kept  secret  for  a  few  months.  And  Captain  F. 
only  made  a  confidant  of  me,  and  the  mess,  as  he  said  :  but  this 
was  after  Tidd  had  paid  his  twenty  thousand  pounds  over  to  our 
governor,  which  he  did  punctually  when  he  came  of  age.  The  same 
day,  too,  he  proposed  for  the  young  lady,  and  I  need  not  say  was 
rejected.  Presently  the  Captain's  engagement  began  to  be  whispered 
about :  all  his  great  relations,  the  Duke  of  Doncaster,  the  Earl  of 
Cinqbars,  the   Earl   of  Crabs,  &c.,  came  and   visited   the  Brough 


56      THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

family  ;  the  Hon.  Henry  Riugwood  became  a  shareholder  in  our 
Company,  and  the  Earl  of  Crabs  offered  to  be.  Our  shares  rose  to 
a  premium ;  our  Dii^ctor,  his  lady,  and  daughter  "were  presented  at 
Court ;  and  the  great  West  Diddlesex  Association  bid  fair  to  be  the 
first  Assurance  Office  in  the  kingdom. 

A  very  short  time  after  my  visit  to  Fulham,  my  dear  aunt 
wrote  to  me  to  say  that  she  had  consulted  with  her  attorneys, 
Messrs.  Hodge  and  Smithers,  who  strongly  recommended  tliat  she 
should  invest  the  sum  as  I  advised.  She  had  the  sum  invested, 
too,  in  my  name,  paying  me  many  comjiliments  upon  my  honesty 
and  talent ;  of  which,  she  said,  Mr.  Brough  had  given  her  the  most 
flattering  account.  And  at  the  same  time  my  aunt  informed  me 
that  at  her  death  the  shares  should  be  my  own.  This  gave  me  a 
great  weight  in  the  Company,  as  you  may  imagine.  At  our  next 
annual  meeting,  I  attended  in  my  capacity  as  a  shareholder,  and 
had  great  pleasure  in  hearing  Mr.  Brough,  in  a  magnificent  sp)eech, 
declare  a  dividend  of  six  per  cent.,  that  we  all  received  over  the 
counter. 

"  You  lucky  young  scoimdrel !  "  said  Brough  to  me ;  "  do  you 
know  what  made  me  give  you  your  place  1 " 

"  Why,  my  aiuit's  money,  to  be  sure,  sir,"  said  I. 

"  No  sucli  thing.  I)o  you  fancy  I  cared  for  those  paltry  three 
thousand  pounds  1  I  was  told  you  were  nephew  of  Lady  Dmm ; 
and  Lady  Drum  is  grandmother  of  Lady  Jane  Preston ;  and  ]\Ir. 
Preston  is  a  man  who  can  do  us  a  world  of  good.  I  knew  tliat  tliey 
had  sent  you  venison,  and  the  deuce  knows  what ;  and  when  I  saw 
Lady  Jane  at  my  party  shake  you  by  the  hand,  and  speak  to  you 
so  kindly,  I  took  all  Abednego's  tales  for  gospel.  That  was  the 
reason  you  got  the  place,  mark  you,  and  not  on  account  of  your 
miserable  three  thousand  pounds.  Well,  sir,  a  fortnight  after  you 
were  with  us  at  Fulham,  I  met  Preston  in  the  House,  and  made  a 
merit  of  having  given  the  place  to  his  cousin.  *  Confound  the 
insolent  scoundrel !'  said  he;  'he  my  cousin  !  I  suppo.se  you  take 
all  old  Drum's  stories  for  true  ?  Why,  man,  it's  her  mania :  she 
never  is  introduced  to  a  man  but  she  finds  out  a  cousinship,  and 
would  not  fail  of  course  with  that  cur  of  a  Titmarsh  ! '  '  Well,'  said 
I,  laughing,  '  that  cur  has  got  a  good  place  in  consequence,  and  the 
matter  can't  be  mended.'  So  you  see,"  continued  our  Director, 
"  that  you  were  indebted  for  vour  place,  not  to  vour  aunt's  money, 
but " 

"  But  to  MY  aunt's  diamond-pin  !  " 

"Lucky  rascal ! "  said  Brough,  poking  me  in  the  side  and  going 
out  of  the  way.     And  lucky,  in  faith.  I  thought  I  was. 


CHAPTER   VIII 

RELATES   THE  HAPPIEST  DAY  OF  SAMUEL   TITMARSH'S  LIFE 

I  DON'T  know  how  it  was  that  in  tlie  course  of  the  next  six 
months  Mr.  Roundhand,  the  actuary,  who  had  been  such  a 
profound  a(hnirer  of  j\Ir.  Brough  and  the  West  Diddlescx 
Association,  suddenly  quarrelled  witli  both,  and  taking  his  money 
out  of  the  concern,  he  disposed  of  his  ^5000  worth  of  shares  to  a 
pretty  good  profit,  and  went  away,  speaking  everything  tliat  was 
evil  both  of  the  Com](any  and  the  Director. 

Mr.  Highmorc  now  became  secretary  and  actuary,  Mr.  Abednego 
was  first  clerk,  and  your  humble  servant  was  second  in  the  office  at 
a  salary  of  £250  a  year.  How  unfounded  were  Mr.  Roundliand's 
aspersions  of  the  West  Diddlesex  appeared  quite  clearly  at  our 
meeting  in  January  1823,  when  our  Chief  Director,  in  one  of  the 
most  brilliant  speeches  ever  heard,  declared  tliat  the  half-yearly 
dividend  was  £i  per  cent.,  at  tlie  rate  of  £S  per  cent.  ]>cr  aniuun  : 
and  I  sent  to  my  aunt  £120  sterling  as  the  amount  of  tlie  interest 
of  the  stock  in  my  name. 

My  excellent  aunt,  Mrs.  Hoggarty,  delighted  beyond  measure, 
sent  me  back  £\0  for  my  o\Ma  pocket,  and  asked  me  if  she  had  not 
better  sell  Slojjperton  and  Squashtail,  anil  invest  all  her  money  in 
this  admirable  concern. 

On  this  i)oint  I  could  not  surely  do  better  than  ask  the  opinion 
of  Mr.  Brough.  Mr.  B.  told  me  tliat  shares  could  n(jt  be  had  but 
at  a  premium  ;  but  on  my  representing  that  I  knew  of  £5000  worth 
in  the  market  at  par,  he  said—"  Well,  if  so,  he  would  like  a  fair 
price  for  his,  and  would  not  mind  disjiosing  of  £5000  worth,  as  he 
had  rather  a  glut  of  West  Diddlesex  shares,  and  his  other  concerns 
wanted  feeding  with  ready  money."  At  the  end  of  our  conversation, 
of  .which  I  promised  to  report  the  purport  to  Mrs.  Hoggarty,  the 
Director  was  so  kind  as  to  say  that  he  had  determined  on  creating 
a  place  of  private  secretary  to  the  Managing  Director,  ami  that  I 
should  hold  that  office  Avith  an  additional  salary  of  £150. 

I  had  £250  a  year.  Miss  Smith  had  £70  per  annum  to  her 
fortune.  What  had  I  said  should  be  my  line  of  conduct  whenever 
I  could  reaUse  £300  a  year  1 

G 


S8       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

Gus  of  course,  and  all  the  gents  in  our  office  through  him,  knew 
of  my  engagement  with  ilary  Smith.  Her  father  had  been  a  com- 
mander in  the  navy  and  a  very  distinguished  ofl&cer ;  and  though 
Mary,  as  I  have  said,  only  brought  me  a  fortune  of  £70  a  year, 
and  I,  as  everybody  said,  in  my  present  position  in  the  office  and 
the  City  of  London,  might  liave  reasonably  looked  out  for  a  laily 
with  much  more  money,  yet  my  friends  agreed  that  the  connection 
was  very  respectable,  and  I  was  content :  as  who  would  not  have 
been  ^vith  such  a  darling  as  I\Iary  ?  I  am  sure,  for  my  part,  I 
would  not  have  taken  the  Lord  Mayor's  own  daughter  in  place  of 
Mary,  even  with  a  phun  to  her  fortune. 

Mr.  Brough  of  course  was  made  aware  of  my  approaching 
marriage,  as  of  everything  else  relating  to  every  clerk  in  the  office ; 
and  I  do  believe  Abednego  told  him  wliat  we  had  for  dinner  ever}' 
day.     Indeed,  his  knowledge  of  our  aftairs  was  wonderful. 

He  asked  me  how  I\Iary's  money  was  invested.  It  was  in  the 
three  per  cent,  consols — £2333,  6s.  8d. 

"  RememlxM-,"  says  he,  "  my  larl,  i\Irs.  Sam  Titmarsh  tliat  is  to 
be  may  have  seven  per  cent,  for  her  money  at  tlie  very  lea.st,  and 
on  better  security  than  the  Bank  of  England  ;  for  is  not  a  Company 
of  Avhich  John  Brough  is  the  head  better  than  any  other  company 
in  England  ? "  and  tn  bo  sure  I  thought  he  was  not  far  wrong,  and 
promised  to  sjicak  to  Mary's  guanlians  on  tlie  subject  before  our 
marriage.  Lieutenant  Smith,  her  grandfather,  had  been  at  the  first 
very  much  averse  to  our  union.  (I  must  confess  that,  one  day 
finding  me  alone  with  her,  and  kissing,  I  believe,  the  tips  of  her 
little  fingers,  he  liad  taken  me  by  tiie  collar  and  turned  me  out  of 
doors.)  But  Sam  Titmarsh,  with  a  salary  of  £250  a  year,  a  promised 
fortune  of  £150  more,  iind  the  right-hand  man  of  Mr.  John  Brough 
of  London,  was  a  very  tlirteront  man  from  Sam  the  poor  clerk,  and 
the  poor  clergyman's  widow's  son ;  and  the  old  gentleman  wrote  me 
a  kind  letter  enough,  and  begged  me  to  get  him  six  paire  of  lamb's- 
wool  stockings  and  four  ditto  waistcoats  from  Romanis',  and  accepted 
thorn  too  as  a  present  from  mo  when  I  went  do^vu  in  June — in 
happy  June  of  1823 — to  fetch  my  dear  Mary  away. 

Mr.  Brough  was  likewise  kindly  anxious  about  my  aunt's 
Slopporton  and  Squashtail  ])roperty,  which  she  had  not  as  yet 
sold,  as  she  talked  of  doing ;  and,  as  Mr.  B.  represented,  it  -was 
a  sin  and  a  shame  that  any  person  in  whom  he  took  such  interest, 
as  lie  did  in  all  the  relatives  of  his  dear  young  friend,  should  oidy 
have  three  per  cent,  for  her  money,  when  she  could  have  eight 
elsewhere.  He  always  called  me  Sam  now,  praised  me  to  the  other 
yoimg  men  (who  brought  the  praises  rcgidarly  to  me),  said  there 
was  a  cover  always  laid  for  n>e  at  Fulham,  and  repeatedly  took  me 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     59 

thither.  Tlicre  was  but  little  corapauy  when  I  went;  and  M'AVhirter 
used  to  say  he  only  asked  me  on  days  when  he  had  his  vulgar 
acquaintances.  But  I  did  not  care  for  tlie  great  i)eo])le,  not  being 
born  in  their  sphere ;  and  indeed  did  not  much  care  for  going  to  the 
house  at  all.  Miss  Belinda  was  not  at  all  to  my  liking.  After  her 
engagement  with  Cajitain  Fizgig,  and  after  Mr.  Tidd  had  paid  his 
^20,000,  and  Fizgig's  great  relations  had  joined  in  some  of  our 
Director's  companies,  Mr.  Brough  declared  he  believed  that  Captain 
Fizgig's  views  were  mercenary,  and  put  him  to  the  proof  at  once, 
by  saying  that  he  must  take  Miss  Brough  without  a  fartliing,  or 
not  have  her  at  all.  AVhereupon  Captain  Fizgig  got  an  ai)})ointment 
in  the  colonies,  and  Miss  Brough  became  more  ill-humoured  than 
ever.  But  I  could  not  help  thinking  she  was  rid  of  a  bad  bargain, 
and  pitying  poor  Tidd,  who  came  Imck  to  the  charge  again  more 
love-sick  tlian  ever,  and  was  rebufi'ed  pitilessly  by  Miss  Belinda. 
Her  father  plainly  told  Tidd,  too,  that  liis  visits  Avere  disagTeeable 
to  Belinda,  and  though  he  must  always  love  and  value  him,  he 
begged  him  to  discontinue  his  calls  at  the  Rookery.  Poor  fellow  !  he 
had  paid  his  X20,000  away  for  nothing!  for  what  was  six  per  cent,  to 
him  compared  to  six  per  cent,  and  tlu^  hand  of  Miss  Belinda  Brough? 

Well,  I\Ir.  Brough  ]iiticd  the  poor  love-sick  swain,  as  he  called 
me,  so  nuu'h,  and  felt  such  a  warm  sympatliy  in  my  well-being,  that 
he  insisted  on  my  going  down  to  Somersetshire  with  a  couple  of 
months'  leave ;  and  away  I  went,  as  happy  as  a  lark,  with  a  couple 
of  brand-new  suits  from  Von  Stiltz's  in  my  trunk  (I  had  them  made, 
looking  i'orward  to  a  certain  event),  and  "inside  the  trvmk  Lieutenant 
Smith's  fleecy  hosiery  ;  wrapping  up  a.  ])arcel  of  our  jirospectuses 
and  two  letters  from  John  Brough,  Esq.,  to  my  mother  our  Avorthy 
annuitant,  and  to  Mrs.  Hoggarty  our  excellent  shareholder.  Mr. 
Brough  said  I  was  all  that  the  fondest  father  could  wish,  that  he 
considered  me  as  his  own  boy,  and  that  he  earnestly  begged  Mrs. 
Hoggarty  not  to  delay  the  sale  of  her  little  landed  property,  as  land 
was  high  now  and  must  fall ;  wliereas  the  West  Diddlesex  Associa- 
tion shares  were  (comparatively)  low,  and  must  inevitably,  in  tlie 
course  of  a  year  or  two,  double,  trelile,  quadrui)le  their  jiresent 
value. 

In  this  way  I  was  prepared,  and  in  this  way  I  took  leave  of  my 
dear  Gus.  As  we  parted  in  the  yard  of  the  "  Bolt-in-Tun,"  Fleet 
Street,  I  felt  that  I  never  should  go  back  to  Salisbury  Square  again, 
and  had  made  my  little  present  to  the  landlady's  family  accordingly. 
She  said  I  was  the  respectablest  gentleman  she  had  ever  had  in  her 
house :  nor  was  that  saying  much,  for  Bell  Lane  is  in  tlie  Rules  of 
the  Fleet,  and  her  lodgers  used  commonly  to  be  prisoners  on  Rule 
from  that  place.     As  for  Gus,  the  poor  fellow  cried  and  blubbered 


6o      THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

so  that  he  could  not  eat  a  morsel  of  the  muffins  and  grilled  ham  with 
which  I  treated  him  for  breakfast  in  the  "  Bolt-iu-Tun  "  coffee-house; 
and  when  I  went  away  was  waging  liis  hat  and  his  handkerchief  so 
in  the  archway  of  the  coach-office  that  I  do  believe  the  wlieels  of 
the  "  True  Blue '"'  went  over  liis  toes,  for  I  lie^ird  him  roaring  as  we 
passed  through  the  arch.  Ah  !  how  different  were  my  feelings  as  I 
sat  proudly  there  on  the  box  by  the  side  of  Jim  Ward,  the  coach- 
man, to  tliose  I  had  the  last  time  I  mounted  that  coach,  parting  from 
my  dear  Mary  and  coming  to  London  with  my  diamond-fix  ! 

"When  arrived  near  home  (at  Grumpley,  three  miles  from  our 
village,  where  the  "  True  Blue  "  generally  stops  to  take  a  glass  of 
ale  at  the  Poppleton  Arms)  it  was  as  if  our  Member,  jMr.  Poppletou 
himself,  was  come  into  the  country,  so  great  was  the  concourse  of 
people  assembled  round  the  inn.  And  there  v>-as  the  landlord  of  the 
imi  and  all  the  peo])le  of  the  village.  Then  there  was  Tom  Wheeler, 
the  post-boy,  from  Mrs.  Rincer's  posting-hotel  in  our  town ;  he  was 
riding  on  the  old  bay  posters,  and  they,  Heaven  bless  us !  were 
drawing  my  aunt's  yellow  chariot,  in  which  she  never  Avent  out  but 
thrice  in  a  year,  and  in  which  she  now  sat  in  her  splendid  cashmere 
shawl  and  a  new  hat  and  feather.  She  waved  a  white  handkerchief 
out  of  the  "window,  and  Tom  Wheeler  shouted  out  "  Huzza  !  "  as  did 
a  number  of  tlie  little  blackguard  boys  of  Grumpley :  who,  to  be 
sure,  would  liuzza  for  anytliing.  Wluit  a  change  on  Tom  Wheeler's 
part,  however !  I  remembered  only  a  few  years  before  how  he  had 
wliii)i)cd  me  from  the  box  of  the  chaise,  as  I  was  hanging  on  for  a 
ride  behind. 

Next  to  my  aunt's  carriage  came  the  four-wheeled  chaise  of 
Lieutenant  Smith,  R.N.,  who  Avas  driving  his  old  fat  pony  with  his 
lady  by  his  side.  I  looked  in  the  back  scat  of  the  chaise,  and  felt 
a  little  sad  at  seeing  that  Somehodn  was  not  there.  But,  0  silly 
fellow !  there  was  Somebody  in  the  yellow  chariot  with  my  aunt, 
blushing  like  a  peony,  I  declare,  and  looking  so  happy  ! — oh,  so 
ha]ipy  and  pretty  !  She  had  a  white  dress,  and  a  light  blue  and 
yellow  scarf,  which  my  aunt  said  were  the  Hoggarty  colours  ;  though 
what  the  Hoggartys  had  to  do  wuth  light  blue  and  yellow,  I  don't 
know  to  this  day. 

Well,  tlic  "  True  Blue "  guard  made  a  great  bellowing  on  his 
horn  as  his  four  horses  dashed  away ;  the  boys  shouted  again ;  I 
was  i)laced  bodkin  between  IMrs.  Hoggarty  and  ]\Iary ;  Tom  Wheeler 
cut  into  his  bays  ;  the  Lieutenant  (who  had  sliakcn  me  cordially  by 
the  liand,  and  wliose  big  dog  did  not  make  the  slightest  attempt  at 
biting  me  this  time)  beat  his  pony  till  its  fat  sides  lathered  again  ; 
and  thus  in  this,  I  may  say,  unexampled  procession,  I  arrived  in 
triumph  at  our  village. 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     6i 

My  dear  mother  and  the  girls, — Heaven  bless  them  ! — nine  of 
them  in  their  nankeen  spencers  (I  had  something  pretty  in  my  trunk 
for  each  of  them) — could  not  afibrd  a  carriage,  but  had  posted  them- 
selves on  the  road  near  the  village ;  and  there  was  such  a  ^^'aving  of 
hands  and  handkerchiefs  :  and  though  my  aunt  did  not  much  notice 
them,  except  by  a  majestic  toss  of  the  head,  which  is  pardonable 
in  a  woman  of  her  property,  yet  Mary  Smith  did  even  more  than  I, 
and  waved  her  hands  as  much  as  the  whole  nine.  Ah  !  how  my 
dear  mother  cried  and  blessed  me  when  we  met,  and  called  me  her 
soul's  comfort  and  her  darling  boy,  and  looked  at  me  as  if  I  were  a 
paragon  of  virtue  and  genius  :  whereas  I  was  only  a  very  lucky 
young  fellow,  that  by  the  aid  of  kind  friends  had  stepped  rapidly 
into  a  very  pretty  projierty. 

I  was  not  to  stay  with  my  mother, — that  lir.d  lieen  aiTanged 
beforehand ;  for  though  she  and  Mrs.  Hoggarty  were  not  remarkably 
good  friends,  yet  mother  said  it  was  for  my  benefit  that  I  should 
stay  Avith  my  aunt,  and  so  gave  up  the  pleasure  of  having  mc  with 
her :  and  though  hers  was  much  the  humbler  house  of  the  tAvo,  I 
need  not  saj^  I  preferred  it  for  to  Mrs.  Hoggarty's  more  splendid 
oiK) ;  let  alone  the  horrible  Rosolio,  of  which  I  was  obliged  now  to 
drink  gallons. 

It  was  to  Mrs.  H.'s  then  we  Avere  driven :  she  had  prepared  a 
great  dinner  that  evening,  and  hired  an  extra  Vvaiter,  and  on  getting 
out  of  the  carriage,  she  gave  a  sixpence  to  Tom  Wheeler,  saying  that 
was  for  himself,  and  that  she  would  settle  with  Mrs.  Rincer  for  the 
horses  afterwards.  At  which  Tom  flung  the  sixpence  \\i>oi\  the 
ground,  swore  most  violently,  and  was  very  justly  called  by  my 
aunt  an  "impertinent  fellovr." 

She  had  taken  such  a  liking  to  mc  that  she  would  hardly  bear 
me  out  of  her  sight,  "We  used  to  sit  for  morning  after  morning  over 
her  accounts,  debating  for  hours  together  the  i^ropriety  of  selling  the 
Slopperton  property ;  l:)ut  no  arrangement  was  come  to  yet  about  it, 
for  Hodge  and  Smithcrs  could  not  get  the  price  she  wanted.  And, 
moreover,  she  vowed  that  at  her  decease  she  would  leave  every  shilling 
to  me. 

Hodge  and  Smithers,  too,  gave  a  grand  party,  and  treated  mc 
with  marked  consideration  ;  as  did  every  single  person  of  the  village. 
Those  who  could  not  aflbrd  to  give  dinners  gave  teas,  and  all  drank 
the  health  of  the  young  couple ;  and  many  a  time  after  dinner  or 
supper  was  my  Mary  made  to  blush  by  the  allusions  to  the  change 
in  her  condition. 

The  happy  day  for  that  ceremony  was  now  fixed,  and  the  24th 
July  1823  saw  me  the  happiest  husband  cf  the  prettiest  girl  in 
Somersetshire.      We  were  married  from^  my  mother's  house,   who 

7 


62      THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

would  insist  upon  that  at  any  rate,  and  the  nine  girls  acted  as 
bridesmaids ;  ay  !  and  Gus  Hoskins  came  from  town  express  to  be 
my  groomsman,  and  had  my  old  room  at  my  mother's,  and  stayed 
with  her  for  a  week,  and  cast  a  sheep's-eye  upon  Miss  Winny  Tit- 
marsh  too,  my  dear  fourth  sister,  as  I  afterwards  learned. 

My  aimt  was  very  kind  upon  the  marriage  ceremony,  indeed. 
She  had  desired  me  some  weeks  previous  to  order  three  magnificent 
dresses  for  Mary  from  the  celebrated  Madame  MantaUni  of  London, 
and  some  elegant  trinkets  and  embroidered  pocket-handkerchiefs 
from  Howell  and  James's.  These  were  sent  down  to  me,  and  were 
to  be  mrj  present  to  the  bride  ;  but  Mrs.  Hoggarty  gave  me  to 
understand  that  I  need  never  trouble  myself  about  the  payment 
of  the  bill,  and  I  thought  her  conduct  very  generous.  Also  she  lent 
us  her  chariot  for  the  wedding  journey,  and  made  with  her  own 
hands  a  beautiful  crimson  satin  reticule  for  Mrs.  Samuel  Titmarsh, 
her  dear  niece.  It  contained  a  huswife  completely  furnished  with 
needles,  &c.,  for  she  hoped  ]Mrs.  Titmarsh  woidd  never  neglect  her 
needle;  and  a  purse  containing  some  silver  pennies,  and  a  very 
curious  pocket-piece.  "  As  long  as  you  keep  these,  my  dear,"  said 
Mrs.  Hoggarty,  "you  will  never  want;  and  fervently — fervently  do 
I  pray  that  you  will  keep  them."  In  the  carriage-pocket  we  found 
a  paper  of  biscuits  and  a  bottle  of  Rosolio.  We  laughed  at  this,  and 
made  it  over  to  Tom  "Wheeler — who,  however,  did  not  seem  to  like 
it  much  better  than  we. 

I  need  not  say  I  was  married  in  Mr.  Von  Stiltz's  coat  (the  third 
and  fourth  coats.  Heaven  help  us  !  in  a  year),  and  that  I  wore 
sparkling  in  my  bosom  the  Great  Hoggarty  Diamond. 


CHAPTER    IX 

BRINGS  BACK  SAM,  HIS  WIFE,   AUNT,  AND  DIAMOND, 

TO  LONDON 

WE  pleased  ourselves  during  the  huueymoon  with  forming 
l)lans  for  our  life  in  Loudon,  and  a  pretty  paradise  did 
we  build  for  ourselves !  Well,  we  were  but  forty  years 
old  between  us ;  and,  for  my  jtart,  I  never  found  any  harm  come  of 
castle-building,  but  a  great  deal  of  pleasure. 

Before  I  left  London  I  had,  to  say  the  truth,  looked  round  me 
for  a  proper  place,  befitting  persons  of  our  small  income ;  and  Giis 
Hoskins  and  I,  who  hunted  after  office-hours  in  couples,  had  fixed 
on  a  very  snug  little  cottage  in  Camden  Town,  where  there  was  a 
garden  that  certain  small  j^eojjle  might  play  in  when  they  came :  a 
horse  and  gig-house,  if  ever  we  kept  one, — and  why  not,  in  a  fev/ 
years'? — and  a  fine  healthy  air,  at  a  reasonable  distance  from 
'Change ;  all  for  <£30  a  year.  I  had  descri})ed  this  little  spot  to 
Mary  as  enthusiastically  as  Sancho  describes  Lizias  to  Don  Quixote  ; 
and  my  dear  wife  was  delighted  with  the  prospect  of  housekeeping 
there,  vowed  she  would  cook  all  the  best  dishes  herself  (especially 
jam-imdding,  of  which  I  confess  I  am  very  fond),  and  promised  Gus 
that  he  should  dine  with  us  at  Clematis  Bower  every  Sunday  :  only 
he  must  not  smoke  those  horrid  cigars.  As  for  Gus,  he  vowed  he 
would  have  a  room  in  the  neighbourhood  too,  for  he  could  not  bear 
to  go  back  to  Bell  Lane,  where  we  two  had  been  so  hajjpy  together ; 
and  so  good-natured  ]\Iary  said  she  would  ask  my  sister  Winny  to 
come  and  keei?  her  company.  At  which  Hoskins  blushed,  and  said, 
"  Pooh  !  nonsense  now." 

But  all  our  hopes  of  a  happy  snug  Clematis  Lodge  were  dashed 
to  the  ground  on  our  return  from  our  little  honeymoon  excursion  ; 
when  Mrs,  Hoggarty  informed  us  that  she  was  sick  of  the  country, 
and  was  determined  to  go  to  London  with  her  dear  nephew  and 
niece,  and  keej)  house  for  them,  and  introduce  them  to  her  friends 
in  the  metropolis. 

What  could  we  do  1  We  wished  lier  at — Bath :  certainly  not 
in  London.  But  there  was  no  help  for  it ;  and  we  were  obliged  to 
bring  her  :  for,  as  my  mother  said,  if  we  ofi'ended  her,  her  fortune 


54      THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

would  go  out  of  our  family ;  and  were  we  two  yoimg  people  not 
likely  to  want  it  ? 

So  we  came  to  town  rather  dismally  in  the  carnage,  posting 
the  Avhole  way ;  for  the  carriage  must  be  brought,  and  a  person  of 
my  aunt's  rank  in  life  could  not  travel  by  the  stage.  And  I  had 
to  pay  <£14  for  the  posters,  which  pretty  nearly  exhausted  all  my 
little  hoard  of  cash. 

First  we  went  into  lodgings, — into  three  sets  in  three  weeks. 
We  quarrelled  with  the  first  landlady,  because  my  aunt  vowed  that 
she  cut  a  slice  off  the  leg  of  mutton  which  was  served  for  our 
dinner ;  from  the  second  lodgings  we  went  because  aunt  vowed  the 
maid  would  steal  the  candles ;  from  the  third  we  went  because 
Aiuit  Hoggarty  came  down  to  breakfast  the  morning  after  our 
arrival  with  her  face  shockingly  swelled  and  bitten  by — never  mind 
what.  To  cut  a  long  talc  short,  I  was  half  mad  Avith  the  continual 
choppings  and  changings,  and  tlie  long  stories  and  scoklings  of  my 
aunt.  As  for  her  great  acquaintances,  none  of  them  were  in  London  ; 
and  she  made  it  a  matter  of  quaiTcl  Avith  nic  that  I  had  not  intro- 
duced her  to  John  Brough,  Esquire,  M.P.,  and  to  Lord  and  Lady 
Tiptoff,  her  relatives. 

Mr.  Brough  was  at  Brighton  when  we  arrived  in  town  ;  and 
on  his  return  I  did  not  care  at  first  to  tell  our  Director  that  I  had 
brought  my  aunt  with  me,  or  mention  my  embarrassments  for 
money.  He  looked  rather  serious  when  perforce  I  spoke  of  the 
latter  to  him  and  asked  for  an  advance ;  but  when  he  heard  that 
my  lack  of  money  had  been  occasioned  by  the  bringing  of  my  aunt 
to  Loudon,  his  tone  instantly  changed.  "  That,  my  dear  boy,  alters 
the  question ;  ]\Irs.  Hogg-.irty  is  of  an  age  when  all  things  must  be 
yielded  to  her.  Here  are  a  hundred  pounds ;  and  I  beg  you  to 
draw  upon  me  Avhcnever  you  are  in  the  least  in  want  of  money." 
This  gave  me  breathing-time  until  she  should  pay  her  share  of 
the  household  expenses.  Ami  the  very  next  day  Mr.  and  ^Irs. 
John  Brough,  in  their  splendid  carriage-and-four,  called  upon  I\Irs. 
Hoggarty  and  my  wife  at  our  lodgings  in  Lamb's  Conduit  Street. 

It  was  on  the  very  day  when  my  poor  aunt  appeared  with  her 
face  in  that  sad  condition ;  and  she  did  not  fail  to  inform  IMrs. 
Brough  of  the  cause,  and  to  state  that  at  Castle  Hoggarty,  or  at 
her  country  ])lace  in  Somersetshire,  she  had  never  heard  or  thought 
of  such  vile  odious  things. 

"  Gracious  heavens  ! "  shouted  John  Brough,  Esquire,  "  a  lady 
of  your  rank  to  suffer  in  this  way  I — the  excellent  relative  of  my 
dear  boy,  Titmarsh  !  Never,  madam — never  let  it  be  said  that 
Mrs.  Hoggarty  of  Castle  Hoggarty  should  be  subject  to  such 
horrible  humiliation,  while  John  Brough  has  a  home  to  offer  her, 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     65 

— a  humble,  happy,  Christian  home,  madam;  though  unhkc, 
pcrliaps,  the  splendour  to  which  you  have  been  accustomed  in  tlic 
course  of  your  distinguished  career.  Isabella  my  love  ! — Belinda ! 
speak  to  Mrs.  Hoggarty.  Tell  her  tliat  John  Brough's  house  is  hers 
from  garret  to  cellar.  I  repeat  it,  madam,  from  garret  to  cellar. 
I  desire — I  insist — I  order,  that  Mrs.  Hoggarty  of  Castle  Hoggarty's 
trunks  should  be  placed  this  instant  in  my  carriage  !  Have  the 
goodness  to  look  to  them  yourself,  Mrs.  Titraarsh,  and  see  that  your 
dear  aunt's  comforts  are  better  provided  for  than  tliey  have  been." 

Mary  went  away  rather  wondering  at  this  order.  But,  to  be 
sure,  Mr.  Brough  was  a  gi-eat  man,  and  her  SamueFs  beneflictor ; 
and  though  the  silly  child  absolutely  began  to  cry  as  she  packed 
and  toiled  at  aunt's  enormous  valises,  yet  she  performed  the  work, 
and  came  down  with  a  smiling  face  to  my  aunt,  who  was  entertaining 
Mr.,  and  Mrs.  Brough  with  a  long  and  particular  account  of  the 
balls  at  the  Castle,  in  Dublin,  in  Lord  Charleville's  time. 

"I  have  packed  the  trunks,  aunt,  but  I  am  not  strong  enough 
to  bring  them  down,"  saitl  Mary. 

"Certainly  not,  certainly  not,"  said  John  Brough,  perhaps  a 
little  ashamed.  "  Hallo  !  George,  Frederic,  Augustus,  come  up- 
stairs this  instant,  and  bring  doAvn  the  trunks  of  Mrs.  Hoggarty  of 
Castle  Hoggarty,  which  this  young  lady  will  show  you." 
•  Nay,  so  great  was  Mr.  Brough's  condescension,  that  wlien  some 
of  his  fashionable  servants  refused  to  meddle  with  the  trunks,  ho 
himself  seized  a  pair  of  them  with  both  hands,  carried  them  to  the 
carriage,  and  shouted  loud  enough  for  all  Lamb's  Conduit  Street  to 
hear,  "  John  Brough  is  not  proud — no,  no ;  and  if  his  footmen  are 
too  higli  and  mighty,  he'll  show  them  a  lesson  of  humility." 

Mrs.  Brough  was  for  running  downstairs  too,  and  taking  the 
trunks  from  her  husband ;  but  they  were  too  heavy  for  her,  so  she 
contented  herself  witli  sitting  on  one,  and  asking  all  persons  who 
passed  her,  whether  John  Brough  was  not  an  angel  of  a  man  ? 

In  this  way  it  was  that  ray  aunt  left  us,  I  was  not  aware  of 
her  departure,  for  I  was  at  the  office  at  the  time ;  and  strolling  back 
at  five  with  Gus,  saw  my  dear  Mary  smiling  and  bobbing  from  tlie 
window,  and  beckoning  to  us  botli  to  come  up.  This  I  thought  was 
very  strange,  because  Mrs.  Hoggarty  could  not  abide  Hoskins,  and 
indeed  had  told  me  repeatedly  that  either  she  or  he  must  quit  the 
house.  Well,  we  went  upstairs,  and  there  was  Mary,  wlio  had  dried 
her  tears  and  received  us  with  the  most  smiling  of  faces,  and  laughed 
and  clapped  her  hands,  and  danced,  and  shook  Gus's  hand.  And 
what  do  you  think  the  little  rogue  proposed  1  I  am  blest  if  she  did 
not  say  slie  would  like  to  go  to  Vauxliall ! 

As  dinner  was  laid  for  three  persons  only,  Gus  took  his  scat 


66       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

with  fear  and  trembling ;  and  then  Mrs.  Sam  Titmarsh  related  the 
circumstances  which  had  occurred,  and  how  Mrs.  Hoggarty  had 
been  whisked  away  to  Fulham  in  Mr.  Brough's  splendid  carriage- 
and-four.  "  Let  her  go,"  I  am  sorry  to  say,  said  I ;  and  indeed  we 
relished  our  veal-cutlets  and  jam-pudding  a  great  deal  more,  than 
Mrs.  Hoggarty  did  her  dinner  off  plate  at  the  Rookery. 

We  had  a  very  merry  party  to  Vauxhall,  Gus  insisting  on 
standing  treat ;  and  you  may  be  certain  that  my  aunt,  whose 
absence  was  prolonged  for  three  weeks,  was  heartily  welcome  to 
remain  away,  for  we  were  much  merrier  and  more  comfortable  with- 
out her.  My  little  Mary  used  to  make  my  breakfast  before  I  went 
to  office  of  mornings ;  and  on  Sundays  we  had  a  holiday,  and  saw 
the  dear  little  children  eat  their  boiled  beef  and  potatoes  at  the 
Foundling,  and  heard  the  beautiful  music :  but,  beautiful  as  it  is, 
1  think  the  children  were  a  more  beautiful  sight  still,  and  the  look 
of  their  innocent  hai)])y  faces  was  better  than  the  best  sermon.  On 
week-days  Mrs.  Titmarsh  would  take  a  walk  about  five  o'clock  in 
the  evening  on  the  left-hand  side  of  Lamb's  Conduit  Street  (as  you 
go  to  Holborn) — ay,  and  sometimes  pursue  her  walk  as  far  as  Snow 
Hill,  Avhen  two  young  gents  from  the  I.  W.  D.  Fire  and  Life  Avere 
pretty  sure  to  meet  her ;  and  then  how  hai)pily  we  all  trudged  off 
to  diinier  !  Once  we  came  up  as  a  monster  of  a  man,  with  high 
heels  and  a  gold-headed  cane,  and  whiskers  all  over  his  face,  was 
grinning  under  Mary's  bonnet,  and  chattering  to  her,  close  to  Day 
and  I\Iartin's  Blacking  INLanufoctory  (not  near  such  a  handsome 
thing  then  as  it  is  now) — there  was  the  man  cliattering  and  ogling 
his  best,  when  who  should  come  up  but  Gus  and  1 1  And  in  the 
twinkling  of  a  pegpost,  as  Lord  Duberley  says,  my  gentleman  was 
seized  by  the  collar  of  his  coat  and  found  himself  sjtrawling  under 
a  stand  of  hackney-coaches ;  where  all  the  watermen  were  grinning 
at  him.  The  best  of  it  was,  he  left  his  head  of  hair  and  tchiskers 
in  my  hand  :  but  IMary  said,  "  Don't  be  hard  upon  him,  Samuel ; 
it's  only  a  Frenchman."  And  so  we  gave  him  his  Ang  back,  which 
one  of  the  griiming  stable-boys  put  on  and  carried  to  him  as  he  lay 
in  the  straw. 

He  slirieked  out  something  about  "arretez,"  an«l  "Francais," 
and  "  champ-d'honneur  ; "  but  we  walked  on,  Gus  putting  his  thumb 
to  his  nose  and  stretching  out  his  finger  at  Master  Frenchman. 
This  made  everybody  laugh ;  and  so  the  adventure  ended. 

About  ten  days  after  my  aunt's  departure  came  a  letter  from 
her,  of  which  I  give  a  copy  : — 

"  My  dear  Nephew, — It  was  my  earnest  whish  e'er  this  to 
have  returned  to  London,  where  I  am  sure  you  and  my  niece  Tit- 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     67 

marsh  miss  me  very  much,  and  wliere  she,  poor  thing,  quite 
inexi^erieneed  in  the  ways  of  '  the  great  metro})uhis,'  in  aconamy, 
and  indeed  in  every  quahity  requasit  in  a  good  wile  and  the  mistress 
of  a  famaly,  can  hardly  manidge,  I  am  sure,  without  me. 

"  Tell  her  on  no  account  to  pay  more  than  6^d.  for  the  prime 
pieces,  4|d.  for  soup  meat ;  and  that  the  very  best  of  London  butter 
is  to  be  had  for  8kl.  ;  of  course,  fir  pudns  and  the  kitchin  you'll 
employ  a  commoner  sort.  My  trunks  were  sadly  packed  by  Mrs. 
Titmarsh,  and  the  hasp  of  the  portmantyou-lock  has  gone  througli 
my  yellow  satn.  I  have  darned  it,  and  wear  it  already  twice,  at 
two  ellygant  (though  quiat)  evening-parties  given  by  my  hosjmtahle 
host ;  and  my  pegreen  velvet  on  Saturday  at  a  gi-and  dinner,  when 
Lord  Scaramouch  handed  me  to  table.  Everything  was  in  the  most 
su7nptious  style.  Soup  top  and  bottom  (white  and  brown),  removed 
by  turbit  and  sammon  with  immense  holes  of  lobster-sauce.  Lobsters 
alone  cost  L5s.  Turbit,  three  guineas.  The  hole  sammon  weigh- 
ing, I'm  sure,  15  lbs.,  and  never  seen  at  table  again  ;  not  a  bitt  of 
pickled  sammon  the  hole  weak  afterwards.  This  kind  of  extravi- 
gance  would  just  suit  Mrs.  Sam  Titmarsh,  Avho,  as  I  always  say, 
burns  the  candle  at  loth  ends.  Well,  young  people,  it  is  lucky  for 
you  you  have  an  old  aunt  who  knows  better,  and  has  a  long  purse ; 
without  witch,  I  dare  say,  some  folks  would  be  glad  to  see  her  out 
of  doors.  I  don't  mean  you,  Samuel,  who  have,  I  must  say,  been  a 
dutiful  nephew  to  me.  Well,  I  dare  say  I  shan't  live  long,  and  some 
folks  won't  be  sorry  to  have  me  in  my  grave. 

"  Indeed,  on  Sunday  I  was  taken  in  my  stomick  very  ill,  and 
thought  it  might  have  been  the  lobster-sauce ;  but  Doctor  Blogg, 
who  was  called  in,  said  it  was,  he  very  nuich  feared,  cumsunrjdive  ; 
but  gave  me  some  pills  and  a  draft  w'^  made  me  better^  Please  call 
upon  him — he  lives  at  Pimlico,  and  you  can  walk  out  thero  after 
office  hours — and  present  him  with  £1  Is.,  with  my  compliments. 
I  have  no  money  here  but  a  £10  note,  the  rest  being  locked  up  in 
my  box  at  Lamb's  Cundit  Street. 

"Although  the  flesh  is  not  neglected  in  Mr.  B.'s  sumptious 
establishment,  I  can  assure  you  the  sperrit  is  likewise  cared  for. 
Mr.  B.  reads  and  igspounds  every  morning ;  and  0  but  his  exorcises 
refresh  tlic  hungry  sole  before  breakfast !  Everytliing  is  in  the 
handsomest  style, — silver  and  goold  plate  at  breakfast,  lunch,  and 
dinner;  and  his  crest  and  motty,  a  beeliive,  with  the  Latn  word 
Industria,  meaning  industry,  on  everythimj—oYen  on  the  chany 
juggs  and  things  in  my  beddroom.  On  Sunday  we  were  favoured 
by  a  special  outpouring  from  the  Rev.  Grimes  Wapshot,  of  the 
Amabaptist  CongTigation  here,  and  who  egshorted  for  3  heurs  in 
the    afternoon   in    Mr.    B.'s   private  chapel.     As   the   widow   of  a 


68       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

Hoggarty,  I  have  always  been  a  staunch  supporter  of  the  estabhshed 
Church  of  England  and  Ireland ;  but  I  must  say  Mr.  Wapshot's 
stirring  way  was  far  superior  to  that  of  the  Rev.  Bland  Blenkinsop 
of  the  Establishment,  who  lifted  up  his  voice  after  dinner  for  a 
short  discourse  of  two  hours. 

"  Mrs.  Brougli  is,  between  ourselves,  a  poor  creature,  and  has 
no  sperrit  of  her  own.  As  for  Miss  B.,  she  is  so  saucy  that  once  I 
promised  to  box  her  years ;  and  would  have  left  the  house,  had  not 
Mr.  B.  taken  my  part,  and  Miss  made  me  a  suitable  apollogy. 

"  I  don't  know  when  I  shall  return  to  town,  being  made  really 
so  welcome  here.  Dr.  Blogg  says  the  air  of  Fulham  is  the  best  in 
the  world  for  my  simtums ;  and  as  the  ladies  of  the  house  do  not 
choose  to  walk  out  with  me,  the  Rev.  Grimes  Wapshot  has  often 
been  kind  enough  to  lend  me  his  arm,  and  'tis  sweet  with  such 
a  guide  to  wander  both  to  Putney  and  "Wandsworth,  and  igsamin 
the  wonderful  works  of  nature.  I  liave  spoke  to  him  about  the 
Slopperton  property,  and  he  is  not  of  Mr.  B.'s  opinion  that  I  should 
sell  it ;  but  on  this  point  I  shall  follow  my  own  counsel. 

"  Meantime  you  must  gett  into  more  comfortable  lodgings,  and 
lett  my  bedd  be  warmed  every  night,  and  of  rainy  days  have  a  fire 
in  the  grate :  and  let  Mrs.  Titniarsh  look  up  my  blue  silk  dress, 
and  turn  it  against  I  come ;  and  there  is  my  pm-iile  spencer  she  Ciin 
have  for  herself;  and  I  hope  she  does  not  Avear  tliose  three  splendid 
gOAvns  you  gave  her,  but  lccc]i  them  until  letter  times.  I  shall  soon 
introduse  her  to  my  friend  Mr.  Brough,  and  others  of  my  acquaint- 
anccs ;  and  am  always,  Your  loving  Aunt. 

"  I  have  orde'red  a  chest  of  the  Rosolio  to  be  sent  from  Somer- 
setshire. AVhen  it  comes,  jdease  to  send  half  down  here  (paying 
the  carriage,  of  course).  Twill  be  an  acceptable  present  to  my  kind 
entertainer,  Mr.  B." 

This  letter  was  brought  to  me  by  Mr.  Brough  Iiimself  at  the 
office,  who  apologised  to  me  for  having  broken  the  seal  by  inadvert- 
ence ;  for  the  letter  had  been  mingled  with  some  more  of  his  own, 
and  he  opened  it  without  looking  at  the  superscriiition.  Of  course 
he  had  not  read  it,  and  I  was  glad  of  that ;  for  I  should  not  have 
liked  him  to  see  my  aunt's  opinion  of  his  daughter  and  lady. 

The  next  day,  a  gentleman  at  "  Tom's  Coffee-house,"  Cornhill, 
sent  me  word  at  the  office  that  he  wanted  particularly  to  si)cak  to 
me  :  and  I  stepped  thither,  and  found  my  old  friend  Smithers,  of 
the  house  of  Hodge  and  Smithers,  just  off  the  coach,  with  his 
carpet-bag  between  his  legs. 

"  Sam,  my  boy,"  said  he,  "  you  are  yoiu-  aunt's  heir,  and  I  have 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     69 

a  piece  of  news  for  you  regarding  licr  property  which  you  ought  to 
know.  She  MTote  us  down  a  letter  for  a  chest  of  that  home-made 
wine  of  hers  Avhich  she  calls  Rosolio,  and  which  lies  in  our  ware- 
house along  with  her  furniture." 

"Well,"  says  I,  smiling,  "she  may  part  with  as  much  Rosolio 
as  she  likes  for  me.     I  cede  all  my  right." 

"  Pslia  !  "  says  Smithers,  "  it's  not  that ;  though  her  furniture 
puts  us  to  a  deuced  inconvenience,  to  be  sure — it's  not  that :  but, 
in  the  postscript  of  her  letter,  she  orders  us  to  advertise  the 
Slopperton  and  Sijuashtail  estates  for  immediate  sale,  as  she 
purposes  placing  her  capital  elsewliere." 

I  knew  that  the  Slopperton  and  Squashtail  property  had  been 
the  source  of  a  very  pretty  income  to  Messrs.  Hodge  and  Smithers, 
for  aunt  was  always  at  law  with  her  tenants,  and  paid  dearly  for 
her  litigious  spirit;  so  that  Mr.  Smithers's  concern  regarding  the 
sale  of  it  did  not  seem  to  me  to  be  quite  disinterested. 

"  And  did  you  come  to  London,  Mr.  Smithers,  expressly  to 
acquaint  me  with  this  fact  1  It  seems  to  me  you  liad  much  better 
have  obeyed  my  aunt's  instructions  at  once,  or  go  to  her  at  Ful-ham, 
and  consult  with  her  on  this  subject." 

"  'Sdeath,  IMr.  Titmarsh  !  don't  you  see  that  if  she  makes  a  sale 
of  her  property,  she  will  hand  over  tlie  money  to  Brough ;  and  if 
Brough  gets  the  money,  he " 

"  Will  give  her  seven  per  cent,  for  it  instead  of  three, — there's 
no  harm  in  that." 

"  But  there's  such  a  thing  as  security,  look  you.  He  is  a  warm 
man,  certainly — very  warm — quite  respectable — most  undoubtedly 
respectable.  But  who  knows  ?  A  jjanic  may  take  place  ;  and  then 
these  five  hundred  companies  in  which  he  is  engaged  may  bring  him 
to  ruin.  There's  the  Ginger  Beer  Company,  of  which  Brough  is  a 
director :  awkward  reports  are  abroad  concerning  it.  The  Consoli- 
dated Bafiin's  Bay  Muff  and  Tippet  Company — the  shares  are  down 
very  low,  and  Brough  is  a  director  there.  The  Patent  Pum]i  Com- 
pany— shares  at  65,  and  a  fresh  call,  which  nobody  Avill  pay." 

"  Nonsense,  Mr.  Smithers  !  Has  not  Mr.  Brough  five  hundred 
thousand  pounds'  worth  of  shares  in  the  Independent  West 
DiDDLESEX,  and  is  that  at  a  discount '?  Who  recommended  my 
aunt  to  invest  her  money  in  that  speculation,  I  should  like  to 
know  V     I  had  hira  there. 

"  Well,  well,  it  is  a  very  good  speculation,  certainly,  and  lias 
brought  you  three  hundred  a  year,  Sam,  my  boy ;  and  you  may 
thank  us  for  the  interest  we  took  in  you  (indeed,  we  loved  you  as 
a  son,  and  Miss  Hodge  has  not  recovered  a  certain  mamage  yet). 
You  don't  intend  to  rebuke  us  for  making  your  fortune,  do  you  1 " 


70       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

"  No,  hang  it,  no  ! "  says  I,  and  shook  hands  with  him,  and 
accepted  a  glass  of  sherry  and  biscuits,  which  he  ordered  forthwitli. 

Smithers  returned,  however,  to  the  charge.  "  Sam,"  he  said, 
"  mark  my  words,  and  tahe  your  aunt  aivay  from  the  Rookery. 
She  wrote  to  Mrs.  S.  a  long  account  of  a  reverend  gent  with  whom 
she  walks  out  there, — the  Reverend  Grimes  Wapshot.  That  man 
has  an  eye  upon  her.  He  was  tried  at  Lancaster  in  the  year  '14 
for  forgery,  and  narrowly  escaped  with  his  neck.  Have  a  care  of 
him — he  has  an  eye  to  her  money." 

"Nay,"  said  I,  taking  out  Mrs.  Hoggarty's  letter:  "read  for 
yourself." 

Ho  read  it  over  very  carefully,  seemed  to  be  amused  by  it ;  and 
as  he  returned  it  to  me,  "Well,  Sam,"  he  said,  "I  have  only  two 
favours  to  ask  of  you :  one  is,  not  to  mention  that  I  am  in  town  to 
any  living  soul ;  and  the  other  is,  to  give  me  a  dinner  in  Lamb's 
Conduit  Street  with  your  pretty  wife." 

"  I  promise  you  both  gladly,"  I  said,  laughing.  "  But  if  you 
dine  with  us,  your  arrival  in  town  must  be  known,  for  my  friend 
Gus  Hoskins  dines  Avith  us  likewise ;  and  has  done  so  nearly  every 
day  since  my  aunt  went." 

He  laughed  too,  and  said,  "  We  must  swear  Gus  to  secrecy  over 
a  bottle."     And  so  we  parted  till  dinner-time. 

The  indefatigable  lawyer  pursued  his  attack  after  dinner,  and 
was  supported  by  Gus  and  by  my  wife  too ;  who  certainly  was 
disinterested  in  the  matter — more  than  disinterested,  for  she  would 
have  given  a  gi-eat  deal  to  be  spared  my  aunt's  company.  But  she 
said  she  saw  the  force  of  Mr.  Smithers's  arguments,  and  I  admitted 
their  justice  with  a  sigh.  However,  I  rode  my  high  horse,  and 
vowed  that  my  aunt  should  do  what  she  liked  with  her  money ; 
and  that  I  was  not  the  man  who  would  influence  her  in  any  way  in 
the  disposal  of  it. 

After  tea  the  two  gents  walked  away  together,  and  Gus  told 
me  that  Smithers  had  asked  him  a  thousand  questions  about  the 
office,  about  Brough,  about  nie  and  my  wife,  and  everything  con- 
cerning us.  "You  are  a  lucky  fellow,  Mr.  Hoskins,  and  seem  to 
be  the  friend  of  this  charming  young  couple,"  said  Smithers  ;  and 
Gus  confessed  he  was,  and  said  he  had  dined  with  us  fifteen  times 
in  six  weeks,  and  that  a  better  and  more  hospitable  fellow  than  I 
did  not  exist.  This  I  state  not  to  trumpet  my  own  praises, — no, 
no  ;  but  because  these  questions  of  Smithers's  had  a  good  deal 
to  do  with  the  sidDsequent  events  narrated  in  this  little  history. 

Being  seated  at  dinner  the  next  day  off  the  cold  leg  of  mutton 
that  Smithers  had  admired  so  the  day  before,  and  Gus  as  usual 
having  his  legs  under  our  mahogany,  a  hackney-coach  drove  up  to 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     71 

the  door,  which  we  did  not  much  heed ;  a  step  was  heard  on  the 
floor,  which  we  hoped  might  be  for  the  two-pair  lodger,  when 
who  should  burst  into  the  room  but  Mrs.  Hoggarty  herself  1  Gus, 
who  was  blowing  the  froth  off"  a  pot  of  porter  })n')iaratory  to  a 
delicious  drink  of  the  beverage,  and  had  been  making  us  die  of 
laughing  with  his  stories  and  jokes,  laid  down  the  pewter  pot  as 
Mrs.  H.  came  in,  and  looked  Cjuite  sick  ami  ]iale.  Indeed  we  all 
felt  a  little  uneasy. 

My  aunt  looked  haughtily  in  Mary's  face,  then  fiercely  at  Gus, 
and  saying,  "  It  is  too  true — my  poor  boy — already  !  "  flung  her- 
self hysterically  into  my  arms,  and  swore,  almost  choking,  that  she 
would  never  never  leave  me. 

I  could  not  understand  the  meaning  of  this  extraordinary  agita- 
tion on  Mrs.  Hoggarty's  part,  nor  coukl  any  of  us.  She  refused 
Mary's  hand  when  the  poor  thing  rather  nervously  offeretl  it ;  and 
when  Gus  timidly  said,  "  I  think,  Sam,  I'm  rather  in  the  way 
here,  and  perhaps — had  better  go,"  Mrs.  H.  looked  him  full  in 
the  face,  jDointed  to  the  door  majestically  with  her  forefinger,  and 
said,  "  I  think,  sir,  you  had  better  go." 

"  I  hope  Mr.  Hoskins  will  stay  as  long  as  he  pleases,"  said  my 
wife,  with  spirit. 

"  Of  course  you  hope  so,  madam,"  answered  Mrs.  Hoggarty, 
very  sarcastic.  But  Mary's  speech  and  my  aunt's  were  (juite  lost 
upon  Gus ;  for  he  had  instantly  run  to  his  hat,  and  I  heard  him 
tumbling  downstairs. 

The  quarrel  ended,  as  usual,  hj  Mary's  bursting  into  a  fit  of  tears, 
and  by  my  aunt's  re]ieating  the  assertion  that  it  was  not  too  late,  she 
trusted ;  and  from  that  day  forth  she  would  never  never  leave  me. 

"What  could  have  made  aunt  return  and  be  so  angry?"  said  I 
to  Mary  that  night,  as  we  were  in  our  own  room ;  but  my  wife  ])ro- 
tested  she  did  not  know :  and  it  was  only  some  time  after  that  I  found 
out  the  reason  of  this  quarrel,  and  of  Mrs.  H.'s  sudden  reappearance. 

The  horrible  fat  coarse  little  Smithers  told  me  the  matter  as 
a  very  good  joke,  only  the  other  year,  when  he  showed  me  the 
letter  of  Hickson,  Dixon,  Paxton  and  Jackson,  which  has  before 
been  quoted  in  my  Memoirs. 

"Sam,  my  boy,"  said  he,  "you  were  determined  to  leave  Mrs. 
Hoggarty  in  Brough's  clutches  at  the  Rookery,  and  I  was  deter- 
mined to  have  her  away.  I  resolved  to  kill  two  of  your  mortal 
enemies  with  one  stone  as  it  were.  It  was  quite  clear  to  me  that 
the  Reverend  Grimes  Wapshot  had  an  eye  to  your  aunt's  fortune ; 
and  that  Mr.  Brough  had  similar  predatory  intentions  regarding 
her.  Predatory  is  a  mild  word,  Sam  :  if  I  had  said  robbery  at 
once,  I  should  express  my  meaning  clearer. 


72       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

"Well,  I  took  the  Fulham  stage,  und  arriving,  made  straight 
for  the  lodgings  of  the  reverend  gentleman.  '  Sir,'  said  I.  on 
finding  that  worthy  gent, — he  was  drinking  warm  brandy-and- 
water,  Sam,  at  two  o'clock  in  the  day,  or  at  least  the  room  i*nielt 
very  strongly  of  that  beverage — '  Sir,'  say.s  I,  '  you  were  tried  for 
forgery  in  the  year  '14,  at  Lancaster  as-sizcs.' 

"  *  And  acquitted,  sir.  My  innocence  was  by  Providence  made 
clear,'  said  Wajt.shot. 

"  'But  you  were  not  acquitted  of  emWzzlement  in  'IG,  sir,'  ."^ays 
I,  'and  passed  two  years  in  York  Gaol  in  consequence.'  I  knew 
the  fellow's  hist<>r>',  for  I  had  a  writ  out  ag-aiiist  him  when  lie  w:u? 
a  preacher  at  Clifton.  I  foUowrd  uj)  my  bluw.  'Mr.  Wapshot,' 
said  I,  'you  are  making  love  to  an  excellent  lady  n<iw  at  the  house 
of  Mr.  Brough  :  if  you  do  not  promise  to  give  up  all  i)ursuit  of  her, 
I  will  e.\ po.se  you.' 

"  '  I  have  promi.seil,'  .said  WajL-^hot,  r.ither  surjtrised.  and  l«H)king 
more  ea.sy.  '  I  have  given  my  .solemn  promise  to  Mr.  Bn>ugh, 
who  was  with  me  this  verj'  morning,  stunning,  and  scoldinir.  and 
sweariuL;.  ()\\,  sir,  it  wouM  have  frightoneil  you  to  hear  a  Christian 
babe  like  him  swear  as  he  did.' 

"  '  Mr.  Brough  been  here  ? '  says  I,  nither  astoni.shc<l. 

"'Yes;  I  sui>po.se  you  are  btth  here  on  the  sjune  sirnt,' says 
Wapshot.  'You  want  to  marry  the  widow  witli  the  Slop|M^rton 
aufl  Squa.><htail  estate,  do  you  ?  Well,  well,  have  your  way.  I've 
promised  not  to  have  anything  more  to  do  with  the  wiiiow.  and  a 
Wapshot's  honour  is  sacre<l.' 

"'I  suppo.se,  sir,'  says  I,  'Mr.  r.--" ''■  h.-is  threatene<l  to  kick 
you  out  of  doors,  if  you  cjdl  agsiiu.* 

"  'You  httre  l)een  with  him,  I  see,'  says  the  reverend  gent,  with 
a  shrug:  tlu-n  I  renu-mlxTcd  what  yo;i  liad  told  me  of  tlu  broken 
seal  of  your  letter,  and  have  not  \\\v  .-liL'lit. -f  il.iidit  t!,  i  1'.i..m:1i 
opened  and  read  every  word  of  it. 

"Well,  the  first  bird  was  baLrue<l :  both  I  and  Bnnigh  had  iiad 
a  shot  at  him.  Now  I  had  to  fire  at  the  whole  R<Hikery  ;  and  off 
I  went,  juimed  and  loa<led,  sir, — jirimiMl  and  loadi^l. 

"  It  was  past  eight  when  I  amved,  and  I  sjiw,  after  I  jias-seil 
the  lodge-gates,  a  fi^nire  that  I  knew,  walkinir  in  the  sliniblnTy — 
that  of  your  respected  aunt,  sir:  but  I  wished  to  mei^t  the  amialile 
ladies  of  the  house  before  I  .saw  her  ;  because  lo<ik,  fricntl  Titmarsh, 
I  saw  by  Mrs.  Hoggarty's  letter,  that  she  ami  they  were  at  dag'.:er8 
drawn,  and  hojn^d  to  get  her  out  of  the  hou.se  at  once  by  means  of 
a  (piarrel  with  tliem." 

I  laughed,  and  owned  that  Mr.  Smithere  was  a  very  cunning 
fellow 


AXD    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     73 

**  As  luck  would  have  it,"  continued  lie,  "  Miss  Brough  was  in 
the  drawing-room  twangling  on  a  guitar,  and  singing  most  atrociously 
out  of  tunc  ;  but  as  I  entered  at  the  door,  I  cried  '  Hush  ! '  to  the 
footman,  as  loud  as  p<jssible,  stood  stock-still,  and  then  walked 
forward  on  tijjtoc  lightly.  I\Ii^;s  B.  could  see  in  the  glass  every 
movement  that  I  made ;  she  ])reten(led  not  to  see,  however,  and 
finished  the  song  with  a  regular  roulade. 

"  '  Gracious  Heaven ! '  said  I,  '  do,  madam,  pardon  me  for 
interrupting  that  delicious  harmony, — for  coming  unaware  upon  it, 
— for  daring  uninvited  to  listen  to  it.' 

"  '  Do  you  come  for  mamma,  sir  ? '  said  Miss  Brough,  with  as 
much  graciousness  as  her  physiognomy  could  command.  '  I  am 
Mi.ss  Brough,  sir.' 

"  '  I  wi.'ih,  madam,  you  would  let  me  not  breathe  a  word  regard 
ing  my  business  until  you  have  sung  another  charming  strain.' 

"  She  did  not  sing,  but  looked  pleased,  and  said,  '  La  !  sir,  what 
is  your  ])usiness  ? ' 

"'My  Itusincss  is  with  a  lady,  your  respected  father's  guest  in 
this  hduse.' 

"  *  Oh,  ]Mrs.  Hoggarty  ! '  says  IMiss  Brough,  flouncing  towards 
the  liell,  and  ringing  it.  'John,  send  to  Mrs.  Hoggarty,  in  the 
shruldtery ;  liere  is  a  gentleman  who  wants  to  see  her.' 

"  '  I  know,'  continued  I,  '  Mrs.  Hoggarty's  peculiarities  as  well 
as  any  one,  madam  ;  and  aware  that  those  and  her  education  are  not 
such  as  to  make  her  a  fit  eomi)anion  for  you.  I  know  you  do  not 
like  her :  she  ha.s  written  to  us  in  Somersetshire  that  you  do  not 
like  her.' 

"  '  What  I  she  has  been  abusing  us  to  her  friends,  has  she "? ' 
cried  ]\Iiss  Brough  (it  was  the  very  point  I  wished  to  insinuate). 
'  If  she  does  not  like  us,  why  does  she  not  leave  us  ] ' 

"'Slie  has  made  rather  a  long  visit,'  said  I;  'and  I  am  sure 
that  her  nei)liew  and  niece  are  longing  for  her  return.  Pray, 
madam,  do  not  move,  for  you  may  aid  me  in  the  object  for  whicli 
I  come.' 

"The  object  for  which  I  came,  sir,  was  to  establish  a  regular 
battle-royal  lietween  the  two  ladies ;  at  the  end  of  which  I  intended 
to  appeal  to  Mrs.  Hoggarty,  and  say  that  she  ought  really  no  longer 
to  stay  iu  a  house  with  the  mendiers  of  which  she  had  such  unhappy 
difterences.  Well,  sir,  the  battle-royal  was  fought, — Miss  Belinda 
ojH'ning  the  fire,  by  saying  she  understood  Mrs.  Hoggarty  had  been 
calumniating  her  to  her  friends.  But  though  at  the  end  of  it  Miss 
rushed  out  of  the  room  in  a  rage,  and  vowed  she  woidd  leave  her 
home  unless  that  odious  woman  lelt  it,  your  dear  au.nt  said,  '  Ha, 
ha  !  I  know  the  minx's  vile  stratagems  ;  but,  thank  Heaven  !  I  have 


74      THE   HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

a  good  heart,  and  my  religion  enables  me  to  forgive  her.  I  shall 
not  leave  her  excellent  papa's  house,  or  vex  by  my  departure  that 
worthy  admirable  man.' 

"I  then  tried  Mrs.  H.  on  the  score  of  compassion.  'Your 
niece,'  said  I,  '  Mrs.  Titmarsh,  madam,  has  been  of  late,  Sam  says, 
rather  poorly, — qualmish  of  morninirs,  madam, — a  little  nervous, 
and  low  in  spirits, — symptoms,  madam,  that  are  scarcely  to  be 
mistaken  in  a  young  married  person.' 

"Mrs.  Hoggarty  said  she  had  an  admirable  cordial  that  she 
would  send  Mrs.  Samuel  Titmarsh,  and  she  was  perfectly  certain  it 
would  do  her  good. 

"  With  very  great  unwillingness  I  was  obliged  now  to  bring  my 
List  reserve  into  tlie  field,  and  may  tell  you  what  tliat  was,  Sam, 
my  boy,  now  that  the  matter  is  so  long  passed.  '  Madam,'  said  I, 
'  there's  a  matter  about  which  I  must  speak,  though  indeed  I 
scarcely  dare.  I  dined  With  yoiu*  nei^hcw  yesterday,  and  met  at 
his  table  a  young  man — a  young  man  of  low  manners,  but  evidently 
one  who  has  blinded  your  nephew,  and  I  too  nuich  fear  has  suc- 
ceeded in  making  an  impression  upon  your  niece.  His  name  is 
Hoskins,  madam  ;  and  when  I  state  that  he  who  was  never  in  the 
house  tluring  your  presence  there,  lias  dined  witli  your  too  confiding 
nephew  si.xteen  times  in  three  weeks,  I  may  leave  you  to  imagine 
what  I  dare  not — dare  not  imagine  myself 

"  The  shot  told.  Your  aunt  bounced  up  at  once,  and  in  ten 
minutes  more  was  in  my  carriage,  on  our  way  back  to  London. 
There,  sir,  was  not  that  generalship  ? " 

"  And  you  played  this  pretty  trick  off  at  my  wife's  expense,  Mr. 
Smithers,"  said  I. 

"  At  your  wife's  expense,  certainly  ;  but  for  the  benefit  of  both 
of  you." 

"  It's  lucky,  sir,  that  you  are  an  old  man,"  I  replied,  "  and 
that  tlie  affair  happened  ton  years  ago ;  or,  by  the  Lord,  Mr. 
Smithers,  I  would  have  given  you  such  a  horsewhipping  as  you 
never  heard  of !  " 

But  this  was  the  way  in  whidi  Mrs.  Hoggarty  was  brought 
back  to  her  relatives ;  and  this  was  the  reason  why  we  took 
that  house  in  Bernard  Street,  the  doings  at  which  must  now  be 
described. 


CHAPTER  X 

OF  SAM'S  PRIVATE  AFFAIRS,   AXD   OF   THE  FIRM  OF 
BROUGH  AND  11  OFF 

WE  took  a  genteel  house  in  Bernard  Street,  Paissell  Square, 
and  my  aunt  sent  for  all  her  furniture  from  the  country ; 
which  would  have  filled  two  such  houses,  but  which  came 
pretty  cheap  to  us  young  housekeepers,  as  we  had  only  to  i)ay  the 
carnage  of  the  goods  from  Bristol. 

When  I  brought  Mrs.  H.  her  third  half-year's  dividend,  having 
not  for  four  months  touched  a  shilling  of  her  money,  I  nmst  say 
she  gave  me  £50  of  the  £80,  and  told  me  that  was  ample  pay  for 
the  board  and  lodging  of  a  poor  old  woman  like  her,  avIio  did  not 
eat  more  than  a  spaiTow. 

I  have  myself,  in  the  country,  seen  her  eat  nine  sparrows  in  a 
pudding ;  but  she  was  rich,  and  I  could  not  complain.  If  she  saved 
£600  a  year,  at  the  least,  by  living  with  us,  why,  all  the  savings 
Avould  one  day  come  to  me ;  and  so  Mary  and  I  consoled  ourselves, 
and  tried  to  manage  matters  as  well  as  we  might.  It  was  no  easy 
task  to  keep  a  mansion  in  Bernard  Street  and  save  money  out  of 
£470  a  year,  which  was  my  income.  But  what  a  lucky  fellow  I 
wa5  to  have  such  an  income  ! 

As  Mrs.  Hoggarty  left  the  Rookerj-  in  Smitliers's  carriage,  Mr. 
Brough,  with  his  four  greys,  was  entering  the  loilge-gate ;  and  I 
should  like  to  have  seen  the  looks  of  these  two  gentlemen,  as  the 
one  Avas  carrying  the  other's  prey  off,  out  of  his  own  very  den, 
under  his  very  nose. 

He  came  to  sec  her  the  next  day,  and  protested  that  he  would 
not  leave  the  house  until  slie  left  it  with  him  :  tliat  he  had  heard 
of  his  daughter's  inflimous  conduct,  and  had  seen  her  in  tears — "  in 
tears,  madam,  and  on  her  knees,  imploring  Heaven  to  pardon  her !  " 
But  Mr.  B.  was  obliged  to  leave  the  house  Avithout  my  aunt,  who 
had  a  causa  major  for  staying,  and  hardly  allowed  poor  Mary  out 
of  her  sight, — opening  CA^ry  one  of  the  letters  that  came  into  the 
house  directed  to  my  Avife,  and  suspecting  hers  to  everybody.  Mary 
never  told  me  of  all  this  pain  for  many  many  years  afterAA-ards ;  but 
had  alwavs  a  smiling  face  for  her  husband  Avhen  he  came  home  from 


76       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

his  work.  As  for  jjoor  Gus,  my  aunt  had  so  frightened  him,  that 
he  never  once  shoAved  his  nose  in  the  place  all  the  time  we  lived 
there ;  but  used  to  be  content  with  news  of  Mary,  of  whom  he  was 
as  fond  as  he  was  of  me. 

Mr.  Brough,  when  my  aunt  left  him,  was  in  a  furious  ill-luunour 
witli  me.  He  found  fault  with  me  ten  times  a  day,  and  openly, 
before  the  gents  of  the  office ;  but  I  let  liim  one  day  know  pretty 
smartly  that  I  was  not  only  a  servant,  but  a  considerable  share- 
holder in  the  Company ;  that  I  defied  him  to  find  fault  with  my 
work  or  my  regularity ;  and  that  I  was  not  minded  to  receive  any 
insolent  language  from  him  or  any  man.  He  said  it  was  always  so : 
that  he  had  never  cherished  a  young  man  in  his  bosom,  but  the 
ingrate  had  turned  on  him  ;  that  he  was  accustomed  to  wrong  and 
undutifulness  from  his  children,  and  that  he  would  pray  tliat  the 
sin  might  be  forgiven  me.  A  moment  before  he  had  been  cursing 
and  swearing  at  me,  and  speaking  to  me  as  if  I  had  been  his  shoe- 
black. But,  look  you,  I  was  not  going  to  put  up  with  any  more 
of  Madam  Brough's  airs,  or  of  his.  With  me  they  might  act  as 
they  tliought  fit;  but  I  did  not  choose  that  my  wife  should  be 
passed  over  by  them,  as  she  had  been  in  the  matter  of  the  visit 
to  Fulliam. 

Brougii  ended  by  warning  me  of  Hodge  and  Smithers.  "  Beware 
of  these  men,"  said  he ;  "  but  for  my  honesty,  your  aunt's  landed 
property  would  have  been  sacrificed  by  these  cormorants  :  and  when, 
for  her  benefit — which  you,  obstinate  young  man,  will  not  perceive 
— I  wished  to  dispose  of  her  land,  her  attorneys  actually  had  the 
audacity — the  unchristian  avarice  I  may  say — to  ask  ten  per  cent, 
commission  on  the  sale." 

Tliere  might  be  some  truth  in  this,  I  thought :  at  any  rate,  when 
rogues  fall  out,  honest  men  come  by  their  own  :  and  now  I  began  to 
suspect,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  that  both  the  attorney  and  the  Director 
had  a  little  of  the  rogue  in  their  composition.  It  was  especially 
about  my  wife's  fortune  tliat  Mr.  B.  showed  his  cloven  foot :  for 
proposing,  as  usual,  that  I  should  purchase  shares  with  it  in  our 
Company,  I  told  him  that  my  wife  was  a  minor,  and  as  such  her 
little  fortune  was  vested  out  of  my  control  altogether.  He  flung 
away  in  a  rage  at  this ;  aud  I  soon  saw  that  he  did  not  care  for  me 
any  more,  by  Abednego's  manner  to  me.  No  more  holidays,  no 
more  advances  of  money,  had  I :  on  the  contrary,  the  private  clerk- 
ship at  £150  was  abolished,  and  I  found  myself  on  my  £250  a  year 
again.  Well,  what  then  ?  it  was  always  a  good  income,  and  T  did 
my  duty,  and  laughed  at  the  Director. 

About  this  time,  in  the  beginning  of  1824,  the  Jc^maica  Ginger 
Beer  Company  shut  up  shop — exploded,  as  Gus  said,  witli  a  bang ! 


AND    THE    GEEAT    HOGGARTY   DIAMOND     77 

The  Patent  Pump  shares  Avcre  down  to  <£15  upon  a  paid-up  capital 
of  .£65.  Still  ours  were  at  a  high  premium;  and  the  Independent 
West  Diddlesex  held  its  head  uj)  as  proudly  as  any  office  in  London. 
Roundliand's  abuse  had  had  some  intluence  against  the  Director, 
certainly  ;  for  he  hinted  at  malversation  of  shares  :  but  the  Company 
still  stood  as  united  as  the  Hand-in-Hand,  and  as  firm  as  tlie  Rock. 

To  return  to  the  state  of  atiairs  in  Bernard  Street,  Russell 
Square :  my  aunt's  old  furniture  crammed  our  little  rooms ;  and 
my  punt's  enormous  old  jingling  grand  piano,  with  crooked  legs  and 
half  the  strings  broken,  occupied  three-fourths  of  the  little  drawing- 
room.  Here  used  Mrs.  H.  to  sit,  and  play  us,  for  hours,  sonatas  that 
were  in  fashion  in  Lord  Charleville's  time ;  and  sung  Avith  a  cracked 
voice,  till  it  was  all  that  we  could  do  to  refrain  from  laughing. 

And  it  was  queer  to  remark  the  change  that  had  taken  place  in 
Mrs.  Hoggarty's  character  now  :  for  Avhereas  she  w\as  in  the  country 
among  the  topping  persons  of  tlie  village,  and  quite  content  with  a 
tea-party  at  six  and  a  game  of  twopenny  whist  afterwards, — in 
London  she  would  never  dine  till  seven ;  would  have  a  fly  from  the 
meW'S  to  drive  in  the  Park  twice  a  week  ;  cut  and  mi  cut,  and  rii)ped 
up  and  twisted  over  and  over,  all  her  old  gowns,  flounces,  caps,  and 
fallals,  and  kept  my  poor  Mary  from  morning  till  night  altering 
them  to  the  present  mode.  JMrs.  Hoggarty,  moreover,  appeared  in 
a  new  wig ;  and,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  turned  out  with  such  a  pair  of 
red  cheeks  as  Nature  never  gave  her,  and  as  made  all  the  people  in 
Bernard  Street  stare,  where  they  are  not  as  yet  used  to  such  fasliions. 

Moreover,  she  insisted  upon  our  establishing  a  servant  in  livery, 
— a  boy,  that  is,  of  about  sixteen, — who  was  dressed  in  one  of  the 
old  liveries  that  she  had  brought  with  her  from  Somersetshire, 
decorated  Avith  new  cufts  and  collars,  and  new  buttons  :  on  the 
latter  were  represented  the  united  crests  of  the  Titmarshes  and 
Hoggartys,  viz.,  a  tomtit  rampant  and  a  hog  in  armour.  I  tliought 
this  livery  and  crest-button  ratlier  absurd,  I  must  confess ;  though 
my  family  is  very  ancient.  And  heavens  !  Avhat  a  roar  of  laughter 
was  raised  in  the  office  one  day,  Avhen  the  little  servant  in  the  big 
livery,  with  the  immense  cane,  walked  in  and  brought  me  a  message 
fi-om  ]\Irs.  Hoggarty  of  Castle  Hoggarty  !  Furthermore,  all  letters 
were  delivered  on  a  silver  tray.  If  we  had  liad  a  l)al)y,  I  believe 
aunt  would  have  had  it  down  on  the  tray  :  Ijut  tlicrc  was  as  yet 
no  foundation  for  Mr.  Smithers's  insinuation  upon  tliat  score,  any 
more  than  for  his  other  cowardly  fabrication  before  narrated.  Aunt 
and  Mary  used  to  walk  gravely  up  and  down  the  Ncav  Road,  with 
the  boy  following  with  his  great  gold-headed  stick  ;  but  though  tliere 
was  all  this  ceremony  and  parade,  and  aunt  still  talked  of  her 
acquaintances,  we  did  not  see  a  single  person  from  week's  end  to 


78       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL   TITMARSH 

week's  end,  and  a  more  dismal  house  than  ours  could  hardly  be 
found  in  London  town. 

On  Sundays,  Mrs.  Hoggarty  used  to  go  to  St.  Pancras  Church, 
then  just  built,  and  as  handsome  as  Covent  Garden  Theatre ;  and 
of  evenings,  to  a  meeting-house  of  the  Anabaptists :  and  that  day, 
at  least,  Mary  and  I  liad  to  ourselves, — for  we  chose  to  have  seats 
at  the  Foundling,  and  heard  the  charming  music  there,  and  my  wife 
used  to  look  wistfully  in  the  pretty  children's  fiices, — and  so,  for 
the  matter  of  that,  did  I.  It  was  not,  however,  till  a  year  after 
our  marriage  that  she  spoke  in  a  way  wliich  shall  be  here  p;^ssed 
over,  but  which  filled  both  her  and  me  ^vith  inexpressible  joy. 

I  remember  she  had  the  news  to  give  me  on  the  very  day  when 
the  ]\Iuff  and  Tippet  Company  shut  up,  after  swallowing  a  capital 
of  £300,000,  as  some  said,  and  m^thing  to  show  for  it  except  a 
treaty  with  some  Indians,  wlio  had  afterwards  tomahawked  the 
agent  of  the  Company.  Some  ])eoplc  said  there  were  no  Indians, 
and  no  agent  to  be  tomahawked  at  all ;  but  that  the  whole  had  been 
invented  in  a  house  in  Crutchcd  Friars.  "Well,  I  i)iticd  poor  Tidd, 
whose  £20,000  were  thus  gone  in  a  year,  and  whom  I  met  in  the 
City  tliat  day  with  a  most  ghastly  face.  He  had  £1000  of  debts, 
he  said,  and  talked  of  shooting  himself;  but  he  was  only  arrested, 
and  passed  a  long  time  in  the  Fleet.  Mary's  delightful  news,  how- 
ever, soon  put  Tidd  and  the  INIuff  and  Tippet  Company  out  of  my 
head  ;  a.s  you  may  fancy. 

Other  circumstances  now  occurred  in  the  City  of  London  which 
seemed  to  show  that  our  Director  wa.s — what  is  not  to  be  found  in 
Johnson's  Dictionary — rather  sliaky.  Three  of  his  companies  had 
broken ;  four  more  wore  in  a  notoriously  insolvent  state ;  and  even 
at  the  meetings  of  the  directors  of  the  "West  Diddlescx,  some  stormy 
words  passed,  wliich  ended  in  the  retirement  of  several  of  the  board. 
Friends  of  :\Ir.  B.'s  fillcl  up  their  places :  Mr.  Puppet,  Mr.  Straw, 
Mr.  Query,  and  other  resjjcctable  gents,  coming  forward  and  joining 
the  concern.  Brough  and  Hoff  dissolved  partnership ;  and  Mr.  B. 
said  he  had  quite  enough  to  do  to  manage  the  I.  W.  D.,  and  in- 
tended gradually  to  retire  from  the  other  affairs.  Indeed,  such  an 
Association  as  ours  was  enough  work  for  any  man,  let  alone  the 
parliamentary  duties  whidi  Brough  was  called  on  to  perform,  and 
the  seventy-two  lawsuits  which  burst  upon  him  as  principal  director 
of  the  late  companies. 

Perhaps  I  should  here  describe  the  desperate  attempts  made  by 
Mrs.  Hoggarty  to  introduce  herself  into  genteel  life.  Strange  to 
say,  althoiigh  Ave  had  my  Lord  Tiptotf  s  word  to  the  contrary,  she 
insisted  ui)on  it  tliat  she  and  Lady  Drum  were  intimately  related  ; 
and  no  sooner  did  she  read  in  the  Morning  Post  of  the  arrival  of 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     79 

her  Ladyship  and  her  gi-anddaughters  in  Loudon,  than  she  ordered 
the  fly  before  mentioned,  and  left  cards  at  their  respective  houses : 
her  card,  that  is — "Mrs.  Hoggarty  of  Castle  Hoggarty," 
magnificently  engraved  in  Gothic  letters  and  flourishes ;  and  ours, 
viz.,  "  Mr.  and  Mrs.  S.  Titmarsh,"  which  she  had  printed  for  the 
piu'pose. 

She  would  have  stormed  Lady  Jane  Preston's  door  and  forced 
her  way  upstairs,  in  spite  of  Mary's  entreaties  to  the  contrary,  had 
the  footman  who  received  her  card  given  her  the  least  encourage^ 
ment ;  but  that  functionary,  no  doubt  struck  by  the  oddity  of  her 
appearance,  placed  himself  in  the  front  of  the  door,  and  declared 
that  he  had  positive  orders  not  to  admit  any  strangers  to  his  lady. 
On  which  Mrs.  Hoggarty  clenched  her  fist  out  of  the  coach-window, 
and  i^romised  that  she  would  have  hiui  turned  away. 

Yellowplush  only  burst  out  laughing  at  this ;  and  though  aunt 
wrote  a  most  indignant  letter  to  Mr.  Edmund  Preston,  complaining 
of  the  insolence  of  the  servants  of  that  right  honourable  gent,  Mr. 
Preston  did  not  take  any  notice  of  her  letter,  further  th.an  to  return 
it,  with  a  desire  that  he  might  not  be  troubled  with  such  impertinent 
visits  for  the  future.  A  pretty  day  we  had  of  it  when  this  letter 
arrived,  owing  to  my  aunt's  disappointment  and  rage  in  reading  the 
contents ;  for  when  Solomon  brought  up  the  note  on  the  silver  tea- 
tray  as  usual,  my  aunt,  seeing  Mr,  Preston's  seal  and  name  at  tlie 
corner  of  the  letter  (which  is  the  common  way  of  writing  ado])ted 
by  those  oflicial  gents) — my  aunt,  I  say,  seeing  his  name  and  seal, 
cried,  "A^o«',  Mary,  who  is  right  1"  and  betted  my  wife  a  sixpence 
that  the  envelope  contained  an  invitation  to  dinner.  She  never  paid 
the  sixpence,  though  she  lost,  but  contented  herself  by  abusing  ]\Iary 
all  day,  and  said  I  was  a  poor-spirited  sneak  for  not  instantly  horse- 
whipping Mr.  P.  A  pretty  joke,  indeed  !  They  would  have  hanged 
me  in  those  days,  as  they  did  the  man  who  shot  Mr.  Perceval. 

And  now  I  should  be  glad  to  enlarge  upon  that  experience  in 
genteel  life  which  I  obtained  through  the  perseverance  of  ]\Irs. 
Hoggarty;  but  it  must  be  owned  that  my  opportunities  were  but 
few,  lasting  only  for  the  brief  period  of  six  months  :  and  also,  genteel 
society  has  been  fully  described  already  by  various  authors  of  novels, 
whose  names  need  not  here  be  set  down,  but  who,  being  themselves 
connected  with  the  aristocracy,  viz.,  as  members  of  noble  families, 
or  as  footmen  or  hangers-on  thereof,  naturally  understand  tlicir 
subject  a  great  deal  better  than  a  poor  young  fellow  from  a  fire- 
office  can. 

There  was  our  celebrated  adventirre  in  the  Opera  House,  whither 
Mrs.  H.  would  insist  upon  conducting  us :  and  where,  in  a  room  of 
the  estabhshment  called  the  crush-room,  where  the  ladies  and  gents 


8o       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

after  the  music  and  dancing  await  the  arrival  of  their  carriages  (a 
pretty  figure  did  our  little  Solomon  cut,  by  the  way,  with  his  big 
cane,  among  the  gentlemen  of  the  shoulder-knot  assembled  in  tlie 
lobby  !) — where,  I  say,  in  the  crush-room,  Mrs.  H.  rushed  up  to  old 
Lady  Drum,  whom  I  pouited  out  to  her,  and  insisted  upon  claiming 
relationship  with  lier  Ladyship.  But  my  Lady  Drum  had  only  a 
memory  when  she  chose,  as  I  may  say,  and  had  entirely  on  tliis 
occasion  thouglit  fit  to  forget  her  connection  with  the  Titmarshes 
and  Hoggartys.  Far  from  recognising  us,  indeed,  she  called  ]\Irs. 
Hoggarty  an  "ojus  'oman,"  and  screamed  out  as  loud  as  possible 
for  a  police-officer. 

This  and  other  rebuffs  made  my  aunt  perceive  tlie  vanities  of 
this  wicked  world,  as  she  said,  and  threw  her  more  and  more  into 
really  serious  society.  She  formed  several  very  valuable  acquaint- 
ances, she  said,  at  the  Independent  Chapel :  and  among  others, 
lighted  upon  her  friend  of  the  Rookery,  Mr.  Grimes  Wapshot.  We 
did  not  know  then  the  interview  which  he  had  had  with  INIr. 
Smithcrs,  nor  did  Grimes  think  proper  to  acquaint  us  with  the 
particulars  of  it ;  but  though  I  did  acquaint  Mrs.  H.  with  the  fact 
that  her  favourite  preacher  had  been  tried  for  forgery,  she  replied 
that  she  considered  the  story  an  atrocious  calumny  ;  and  he  answered 
by  saying  that  Mary  and  I  were  in  lamentable  darkness,  and  that 
we  should  infallibly  find  the  way  to  a  certain  bottomless  pit,  of 
which  he  seemed  to  know  a  great  deal.  Under  the  reverend  gentle- 
man's guidance  and  advice,  she,  after  a  time,  separated  from 
St.  Pancras  altogether — "  sat  binder  him,^'  as  the  phrase  is,  regularly 
thrice  a  week — began  to  labour  in  the  conversion  of  the  poor  of 
Bloonisbury  and  St.  Giles's,  and  made  a  (leal  of  baby-linen  for 
distribution  among  those  benighted  jicoplc.  She  did  not  make  any, 
however,  for  Mrs.  Sam  Tituiarsh,  who  now  showed  signs  that  such 
would  be  speedily  necessary,  but  let  Mary  (and  my  mother  and 
sisters  in  Somersetshire)  provide  what  was  requisite  for  the  coming 
event.  I  am  not,  indeed,  sure  that  she  did  not  say  it  was  wrong 
on  our  parts  to  make  any  such  provision,  and  that  we  ought  to  let 
the  morrow  jirovide  for  itself.  At  any  rate,  the  Reverend  Grimes 
Wapshot  drank  a  deal  of  brandy-antl-water  at  our  house,  and  dined 
there  even  oftcner  than  poor  Gus  usod  to  do. 

But  I  had  little  leism-e  to  attend  to  him  and  his  doings ;  for 
I  must  confess  at  this  time  I  was  growing  very  embarrassed  in  my 
circumstances,  and  was  murh  harassed  both  as  a  ])rivate  and  public 
character. 

As  regards  the  former,  ]Mrs.  Hoggarty  liad  given  me  £50  ;  but 
out  of  that  £50  I  had  to  pay  a  journey  post  from  Somersetshire,  all 
the  carriage  of  her  goods  from  the  country,  the  painting,  papering, 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     8i 

and  carpeting  of  my  house,  the  brandy  and  strong  liquors  (h-unk  l)y 
the  Reverend  Grimes  and  his  friends  (for  the  reverend  gent  said 
that  RosoUo  (Ud  not  agree  v\-ith  him) ;  and  finally,  a  tliousand 
small  bills  and  expenses  incident  to  all  housekeepers  in  the  town 
of  London. 

Add  to  this,  I  received  just  at  the  time  when  I  vras  most  in 
Avant  of  cash,  Madame  Mantalini's  l)ill,  Messrs.  Howell  and  James's 
ditto,  the  account  of  Baron  Von  Stiltz,  and  the  bill  of  Mr.  Polonius 
for  the  setting  of  the  diamond-] (in.  All  these  bills  arrived  in  a 
week,  as  they  have  a  knack  of  doing ;  and  fancy  my  astonishment 
in  presenting  them  to  Mrs.  Hoggarty,  when  she  said,  "Well,  my 
dear,  you  are  in  the  receipt  of  a  very  fine  income.  If  you  choose  to 
order  dresses  and  jewels  from  first-rate  shops,  you  must  pay  for 
them ;  and  don't  expect  that  /  am  to  abet  your  extravagance,  or 
give  you  a  shilling  more  than  the  munificent  sum  I  pay  yuu  for 
board  and  lodging  !  " 

How  could  I  teU  Mary  of  this  behaviour  of  Mrs.  Hoggarty, 
and  Mary  in  such  a  delicate  condition  ?  And  bad  as  matters  were 
at  home,  I  am  sorry  to  say  at  the  office  they  began  to  look  still 
worse. 

Not  only  did  Roundhand  leave,  but  Highmore  went  away. 
Abednego  became  head  clerk  :  and  one  day  old  Abednego  came  to 
the  place  and  was  shown  into  the  directors'  i)rivate  room ;  when  he 
left  it,  he  came  trembling,  chattering,  and  cursing  downstairs  ;  and 

had  begun,  "  Shentlemen "  a  speech  to  the  very  clerks  in  the 

office,  when  Mr.  Brough,  with  an  imploring  look,  and  crying  out, 
"  Stop  till  Saturday  ! "  at  length  got  him  into  the  street. 

On  Saturday  Abednego  junior  left  the  ofiice  for  ever,  and  I 
became  head  clerk  Avith  £-100  a  year  salary.  It  was  a  fixtal  week 
for  the  office,  too.  On  Monday,  when  I  arrived  and  took  my  seat 
at  the  head  desk,  and  my  first  read  of  the  newspaper,  as  was  my 
right,  the  first  thing  I  read  was,  "Frightful  fire  in  Houndsditch  ! 
Total  destruction  of  Mr.  INIeshach's  sealing-wax  manufactory  and  of 
Mr.  Sliadrach's  clothing  depot,  adjoining.  In  the  former  was 
£20,000  worth  of  the  finest  Dutch  wax,  which  tlie  voracious 
element  attacked  and  devoured  in  a  twinkling.  The  latter  estimable 
gentleman  had  just  comjileted  forty  thousand  suits  of  clothes  lor 
the  cavalry  of  H.H.  the  Cacique  of  Poyais." 

Both  of  these  Jewish  gents,  who  were  connections  of  Mr. 
Abednego,  were  insured  in  our  office  to  the  full  amount  of  their  loss. 
The  calamity  was  attributed  to  the  drunkenness  of  a  scoundrelly 
Irish  watchman,  who  was  employed  on  the  premises,  and  wlio  upset 
a  bottle  of  wliisky  in  the  warehouse  of  Messrs.  Shadrach,  and 
incautiously  looked  for  the  liquor  with  a  lighted  candle.     The  man 


82       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

was  brouglit  to  our  office  by  his  employers  ;  and  certainly,  as  we  all 
could  testify,  was  even  then  in  a  state  of  frightful  intoxication. 

As  if  this  were  not  sufficient,  in  the  obituary  was  announced  the 
demise  of  Alderman  Pash — Alderman  Cally-Pash  we  used  to  call 
him  in  our  lighter  hours,  knowing  his  propensity  to  green  fat :  but 
such  a  moment  as  this  was  no  time  for  joking !  He  was  insured 
by  our  house  for  .£5000.  And  now  I  saw  very  well  tlie  truth  of  a 
remark  of  Gus's — viz.,  that  life-assurance  companies  go  on  excellently 
for  a  year  or  two  after  their  establishment,  but  that  it  is  much  more 
difficult  to  make  them  profitable  when  the  assured  parties  begin 
to  die. 

The  Jewish  fires  were  the  heaviest  blows  we  had  had ;  for 
though  the  Waddingley  Cotton-mills  had  been  bunit  in  1822,  at  a 
loss  to  the  Comi)any  of  <£80,000,  and  though  the  Patent  Erostratus 
Match  Manufactory  had  exploded  in  the  same  year  at  a  chai'ge  of 
£14,000,  there  were  those  who  said  that  the  loss  had  not  been  near 
so  heavy  as  was  supposed — nay,  that  the  Company  had  burnt  the 
above-named  establishments  a.s  advertisements  for  themselves.  Of 
these  facts  I  can't  be  positive,  having  never  seen  the  early  accounts 
of  the  concern. 

Contrary  to  the  expectation  of  all  us  gents,  who  were  ourselves 
as  dismal  as  mutes,  Mr.  Brough  came  to  the  office  in  his  coach-and- 
four,  laughing  and  joking  with  a  friend  as  he  stepped  out  at  the 
door. 

"Gentlemen!"  said  he,  "you  have  read  the  papers;  they 
announce  an  event  which  I  most  deeply  deplore.  I  mean  the 
demise  of  the  excellent  Alderman  Pash,  one  of  our  constituents. 
But  if  anything  can  console  me  for  the  loss  of  that  worthy  man,  it 
is  to  think  that  his  children  and  widow  will  receive,  at  eleven  o'clock 
next  Saturday,  .£5000  from  my  friend  I\Ir.  Titmarsh,  who  is  now 
head  clerk  here.  As  for  the  accident  which  has  hai)i)cned  to 
Messrs.  Shadi-ach  and  Meshach,— in  that,  at  least,  there  is  nothing 
that  can  occasion  any  person  sorrow.  On  Saturday  next,  or  as 
soon  as  the  particulars  of  their  loss  can  be  satisfactorily  ascertained, 
my  friend  Mr.  Titmarsh  will  pay  to  them  across  the  counter  a  sum 
of  forty,  fifty,  eighty,  one  hundred  thousand  pounds — according  to 
the  amount  of  their  loss.  They,  at  lei\st,  will  be  remunerated  ;  and 
though  to  our  proprietors  the  outlay  will  no  doubt  be  considerable, 
yet  we  can  afi"ord  it,  gentlemen.  John  Brough  can  aftbrd  it  him- 
self, for  the  matter  of  that,  and  not  be  very  much  embarrassed  ;  and 
we  must  learn  to  bear  ill-fortune  as  we  have  hitherto  borne  good, 
and  show  ourselves  to  be  men  always  I  " 

Mr.  B.  concluded  with  some  allusions,  which  I  confess  I  don't 
like  to  give  here ;  for  to  speak  of  Heaven  in  connection  with  common 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     83 

worldly  matters,  has  always  appeared  to  nie  irreverent ;  and  to 
bring  it  to  bear  witness  to  the  lie  in  his  mouth,  as  a  religious 
hypocrite  does,  is  such  a  frightful  crime,  that  one  should  be  careful 
even  in  alluding  to  it. 

Mr.  Brough's  speech  somehow  found  its  way  into  the  news- 
papers of  that  very  evening ;  nor  can  I  think  who  gave  a  report  of 
it,  for  none  of  our  gents  left  the  office  that  day  mitil  the  evening  i)apers 
had  appeared.  But  there  was  the  speech — ay,  and  at  tlie  week's  end, 
although  Roundhand  was  heard  on  'Change  that  day  declaring  he 
would  bet  five  to  one  that  Alderman  Pasli's  money  would  never  be 
paid, — at  the  week's  end  the  money  was  paid  by  me  to  Mrs.  Pash's 
solicitor  across  the  counter,  and  no  doubt  Roundhand  lost  his  money. 

Shall  I  tell  hoAV  the  money  was  })rocured  1  There  can  be  no 
harm  in  mentioning  tlie  matter  now  after  twenty  years'  lapse  of 
time ;  and  moreover,  it  is  greatly  to  the  credit  of  two  individuals 
now  dead. 

As  I  was  head  clerk,  I  had  occasion  to  be  frequently  in  Brough's 
room,  and  he  now  seemed  once  more  disposed  to  take  me  into  his 
confidence. 

"  Titmarsh,  my  boy,"  said  he  one  day  to  me,  after  looking  me 
hard  in  tlie  face,  "  did  you  ever  hear  of  the  fate  of  the  great 
Mr.  Silberschmidt,  of  London  1 "  Of  course  I  had.  Mr.  Silber- 
schmidt,  the  Rothschild  of  his  day  (indeed  I  have  heard  the  latter 
famous  gent  was  originally  a  clerk  in  Silberschmidt's  house) — 
Silberschmidt,  fimcying  he  could  not  meet  his  engagements,  com- 
mitted suicide ;  and  had  he  lived  till  four  o'clock  that  day,  would 
have  known  that  he  was  worth  £400,000.  "To  tell  you  frankly 
the  truth,"  says  Mr.  B.,  "  I  am  in  Silberschmidt's  case.  My  late 
partner,  Hoft',  has  given  bills  in  the  name  of  the  firm  to  an 
enormous  amount,  and  I  have  been  obliged  to  meet  them.  I  have 
been  cast  in  fourteen  actions,  brought  by  creditors  of  that  infernal 
Ginger  Beer  Company  ;  and  all  tlie  debts  are  put  upon  my  shoulders, 
on  account  of  my  known  wealth.  Now,  unless  I  have  time,  I 
cannot  pay  ;  and  the  long  and  short  of  the  matter  is  that  if  I  cannot 
procure  £5000  before  Satiirday,  oin-  concern  is  rimied  !  " 

"What!  the  West  Diddlesex  ruined?"  says  I,  thinking  of  my 
poor  mother's  annuity.      "  Impossible  !  our  business  is  splendid  !  " 

"  We  must  have  £5000  on  Saturday,  and  we  are  saved  ;  and  if 
you  will,  as  you  can,  get  it  for  me,  I  will  give  you  £10,000  for 
the  money ! " 

B.  then  showed  me  to  a  fraction  the  accounts  of  the  concern, 
and  his  own  private  account ;  proving  beyond  the  possibility  of  a 
doubt,  that  with  the  £5000  our  office  must  be  set  agoing;  and 
without  it,  that  the  concern  must  stop.     No  matter  how  he  proved 


84       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

the  thing ;  but  there  is,  you  know,  a  dictiom  of  a  statesman  that, 
give  him  but  leave  to  use  figures,  and  he  will  prove  anything. 

I  promised  to  ask  Mrs.  Hoggarty  once  more  for  the  money,  and 
she  seemed  not  to  be  disinclined.  I  told  him  so ;  and  that  day  he 
called  upon  her,  his  ^vife  called  upon  her,  his  daughter  called  upon 
her,  and  once  more  the  Brough  carriage-and-four  was  seen  at  our 
house. 

But  Mrs.  Brough  was  a  bad  manager ;  and,  instead  of  carrying 
matters  with  a  high  hand,  fairly  burst  into  tears  before  Mrs. 
Hoggarty,  and  went  down  on  her  knees  and  besought  her  to  save 
dear  John.  This  at  once  aroused  my  aunt's  suspicions  ;  and  instead 
of  lending  the  money,  she  wrote  oft'  to  Mr.  Smithers  instantly  to 
come  up  to  her,  desired  me  to  give  her  up  the  £3000  scrip  shares 
that  I  possessed,  called  me  an  atrocious  cheat  and  heartless  swindler, 
and  vowed  I  had  been  the  cause  of  her  ruin. 

How  was  Mr.  Brough  to  get  the  money?  I  will  tell  you. 
Being  in  his  room  one  day,  old  Gates  the  Fulham  porter  came  and 
brought  him  from  Mr.  Balls,  the  pawnbroker,  a  sum  of  £1200. 
Missus  told  him,  he  said,  to  carry  tlie  plate  to  Mr.  Balls ;  and 
liaving  paid  tlie  money,  old  Gates  fumbled  a  great  deal  in  his 
pockets,  and  at  last  pulled  out  a  £5  note,  which  lie  said  his 
daughter  Jane  liad  just  sent  him  from  service,  and  begged  Mr.  B. 
would  let  him  liave  another  share  in  the  Company.  "He  was 
mortal  sure  it  would  go  right  yet.  And  when  he  heard  master 
crying  and  cursing  as  he  and  missus  were  walking  in  the  shrubbery, 
and  saying  that  for  the  want  of  a  few  pounds — a  few  shillings — the 
finest  fortune  in  Europe  was  to  be  overthrown,  why  Gates  and  his 
woman  thought  that  they  should  come  for'ard,  to  be  sure,  with  all 
they  could,  to  heli)  the  kindest  master  and  missus  ever  was." 

This  was  tlic  substance  of  Gates's  si)eech  ;  and  Mr.  Brough  shook 
his  hand  and — took  the  £5.  "Gates,"  said  he,  "that  £5  note 
shall  be  the  best  outlay  you  ever  made  in  your  life  ! "  and  I  have  no 
doubt  it  was, — but  it  was  in  heaven  that  poor  old  Gates  was  to  get 
the  interest  of  liis  little  niitc. 

Nor  was  tliis  the  only  instance.  Mrs.  Brough's  sister.  Miss 
Dough,  who  had  been  on  bad  terms  with  the  Director  almost  ever 
since  he  had  risen  to  be  a  great  man,  came  to  the  ofiice  with  a 
power  of  attorney,  and  said,  "  John,  Isabella  has  been  with  me  this 
morning,  and  says  you  want  money,  and  I  have  brought  you  my 
£4000  ;  it  is  all  I  have,  Joim,  and  pray  God  it  may  do  you  good — 
you  and  my  dear  sister,  who  was  the  best  sister  in  the  world  to  me 
— till — till  a  little  time  ago." 

And  she  laid  down  the  paper  :  I  was  called  up  to  witness  it, 
and   Brough,  with  tears  in  his  eyes,  told  me  her  words  ;  for  he 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     85 

could  trust  me,  he  said.  And  tlius  it  was  that  I  came  to  be  present 
at  Gates's  interview  with  his  master,  which  took  place  only  an  hour 
afterwards.  Brave  Mrs.  Brough  !  how  she  Avas  working  for  her 
husband !  Good  woman,  and  kind  !  but  ycm  had  a  true  heart, 
and  merited  a  better  fiite !  Thougli  wherefore  say  so  ?  The 
woman,  to  this  day,  thinks  her  husband  an  angel,  and  loves  him 
a  thousand  times  better  for  his  misfortunes. 

On  Saturday,  Alderman  Pash's  solicitor  was  paid  l)y  me  across 
tlie  counter,  as  I  said.  "  Never  mind  your  aunt's  money,  Titmarsh, 
my  boy,"  said  Brough  :  "  never  mind  her  having  resumed  her  shares. 
You  are  a  true  honest  fellow  ;  you  have  never  abused  me  like  that 
pack  of  curs  downstairs,  and  I'll  make  your  fortune  yet !  " 

The  next  week,  as  I  was  sitting  with  my  wife,  with  Mr. 
Smithers,  and  with  Mrs.  Hoggarty,  taking  our  tea  comfortably,  a 
knock  was  heard  at  the  door,  and  a  gentleman  desired  to  speak  to 
me  in  the  parlour.  It  was  Mr.  Aminadab  of  Chancery  Lane,  who 
arrested  me  as  a  shareholder  of  the  Independent  West  Diddlesex 
Association,  at  the  suit  of  Von  Stiltz  of  Clitiord  Street,  tailor  and 
draper. 

I  called  down  Smithers,  and  told  him  for  Heaven's  sake  not 
to  tell  Mary. 

"Where  is  Brought'  says  Mr.  Smithers. 

"  Why,"  says  Mr.  Aminadab,  "  he's  once  more  of  tlie  firm  of 
Brough  and  Off,  sir — he  breakfasted  at  Calais  this  morning  ! " 


CHAPTER   XI 

7.V  WHICH  IT  APPEARS  THAT  A  MAN  MAY  POSSESS  A  DIAMOND, 
AND   YET  BE   VERY  HARD  PRESSED  EOR  A  DINNER 

ON  that  fetal  Saturday  evening,  in  a  liackney-coach,  fetched 
from  tlae  Foundling,  was  I  taken  from  my  comfortable 
house  and  my  dear  little  wife ;  whom  Mr.  Smithers  was 
left  to  console  as  he  might.  He  said  that  I  was  compelled  to  take 
a  journey  upon  business  connected  with  the  office ;  and  my  poor 
Mary  made  up  a  little  ijortmanteau  of  clothes,  and  tied  a  com- 
jDrter  round  my  neck,  and  bade  my  companion  particularly  to 
keep  the  coach  windows  shut :  which  injuncti(3n  the  grinning  wretch 
promised  to  obey.  Our  journey  was  not  long :  it  was  only  a 
shilling  fare  to  Cursitor  Street,  Chancery  Lane,  and  there  I  was 
set  down. 

The  house  before  which  the  coach  stopped  seemed  to  be  only 
one  of  half-a-dozen  in  that  street  which  were  used  for  the  same 
purpose.  No  man,  be  he  ever  so  rich,  can  pass  by  those  dismal 
houses,  I  think,  without  a  shudder.  The  front  A\andows  are  barred, 
and  on  the  dingy  pillar  of  the  door  was  a  shining  brass-plate,  setting 
forth  that  "  Aminadab,  Officer  to  the  Slierift"  of  Middlesex,"  lived 
therein.  A  little  red-haired  Israelite  opened  the  first  door  as  our 
coach  drove  up,  and  received  me  and  my  baggage. 

As  soon  jis  we  entered  the  door,  he  barred  it,  and  I  found  myself 
in  the  face  of  another  huge  door,  which  was  strongly  locked ;  and, 
at  last,  i)assing  through  that,  we  entered  the  lobby  of  the  house. 

There  is  no  need  to  describe  it.  It  is  very  like  ten  thousand 
other  houses  in  our  dark  City  of  London.  There  was  a,  dirty  passage 
and  a  dirty  stair,  and  from  the  i^assage  two  dirty  doors  let  into  two 
filthy  rooms,  which  had  strong  bars  at  the  windows,  and  yet  withal 
an  air  of  hoi'rible  finery  that  makes  me  uncomfortable  to  think  of 
even  yet.  On  the  walls  hung  all  sorts  of  trumpery  pictures  in 
tawdry  frames  (how  diff"erent  from  tliose  capital  performances  of  my 
cousin  Michael  Angclo  !) ;  on  the  mantelpiece  huge  French  clocks, 
vases,  and  candlesticks ;  on  the  sideboards,  enormous  trays  of 
Birmingham  plated  ware :  for  Mr.  Aminadab  not  only  arrested 
those  who  could  not  pay  money,  but  lent  it  to  those  who  could ; 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     87 

and  had  already,  in  the  way  of  trade,  sold  and  bought  tliese  articlec 
many  times  over. 

I  agreed  to  take  the  hack-parlour  for  the  night,  and  while  a 
Hebrew  damsel  was  arranging  a  little  dusky  sofa-l)edstead  (woe 
betide  him  who  has  to  sleep  on  it !)  I  was  invited  into  the  front- 
parlour,  where  Mr.  Aminadab,  bidding  me  take  heart,  told  me  I 
should  have  a  dinner  for  nothing  with  a  party  who  had  just  arrived. 
I  did  not  want  for  dinner,  but  I  was  glad  not  to  be  alone — not 
alone,  even  till  Gus  came;  for  whom  I  despatched  a  messenger  to 
his  lodgings  liard  by. 

I  found  there,  in  the  front-parlour,  at  eight  o'clock  in  the 
evening,  four  gentlemen,  just  about  to  sit  down  to  dinner.  Sur- 
prising !  there  was  Mr,  B.,  a  gentleman  of  fashion,  who  had  only 
within  half-an-hour  arrived  in  a  post-chaise  with  his  companion, 
Mr.  Lock,  an  othcer  of  Horsham  gaol.  Mr.  B.  was  arrested  in 
this  wise  :  He  was  a  careless  good-humoured  gentleman,  and  liad 
indorsed  bills  to  a  large  amount  for  a  friend  ;  who,  a  man  of  high 
family  and  un(iuestionable  honour,  had  jjledged  the  latter,  along 
with  a  number  of  the  most  solenui  oaths,  for  the  payment  of  the 
bills  in  question.  Having  indorsed  the  notes,  young  Mr.  B.,  with 
a  proper  thoughtlessness,  forgot  all  about  them,  and  so,  by  some 
chance,  did  the  friend  wdiom  he  obliged ;  for,  instead  of  being  in 
London  with  the  money  for  the  payment  of  his  obligations,  this 
latter  gentleman  was  travelling  abroad,  and  never  hinted  one  word 
to  Mr.  B.  that  the  notes  would  fall  u\Hm  him.  The  young  gentleman 
was  at  Brighton  lying  sick  of  a  fever ;  was  taken  from  his  bed  by 
a  bailiii",  and  carried,  on  a  rainy  day,  to  Horsham  gaol ;  had  a 
relapse  of  his  complaint,  and  when  sufficiently  recovered,  was 
brought  up  to  London  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Aminadab ;  where  I 
found  him — a  pale,  thin,  good-humoured,  lost  young  man  :  he  was 
lying  on  a  sofo,  and  had  given  orders  for  the  dinner  to  which  I  was 
invited.  The  lad's  face  gave  one  i>ain  to  look  at;  it  was  imi)ossible 
not  to  see  that  his  hours  were  numbered. 

Now  Mr.  B.  has  not  anything  to  do  with  my  humble  story; 
but  I  can't  help  mentioning  him,  as  I  saw  him.  He  sent  for  his 
lawyer  and  his  doctor  ;  the  former  settled  speedily  his  accounts 
with  the  bailiti',  and  the  latter  arranged  all  his  earthly  accounts  : 
for  after  he  went  from  the  sjiunging-house  he  never  recovered  froUi 
the  shock  of  the  arrest,  an(h  in  a  few  weeks  he  died.  And  tlmugh 
this  circumstance  took  place  many  years  ago,  I  can't  forget  it  to 
my  dying  day  ;  and  often  see  the  author  of  Mr.  B.'s  death, — a 
prosperous  gentleman,  riding  a  fine  hoi-se  in  the  Park,  lounging  at 
the  window  of  a  club  ;  with  many  friends,  no  doubt,  and  a  good 
reputation.     I  wonder  whether  the  man  sleeps  easily  and  eats  with 


88       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

a  good  appetite'?     I  wonder  whether  he  has  paid  Mr.  B.'s  heirs  the 
sum  which  that  gentleman  paid,  and  died  for  ? 

'  If  Mr.  B."s  history  has  nothing  to  do  with  mine,  and  is  only- 
inserted  here  for  the  sake  of  a  moral,  what  business  have  I  to 
mention  particulars  of  the  dinner  to  which  I  was  treated  by  that 
gentleman,  in  the  spunging-house  in  Cursitor  Street?  Why,  for 
the  moral  too;  and  therefore  the  public  must  be  told  of  what 
really  and  truly  that  dinner  consisted. 

There  were  five  guests,  and  three  silver  tureens  of  soup  :  viz., 
mock-turtle  soup,  ox-tail  soup,  and  giblct  soup.  Next  came  a 
great  piece  of  salmon,  likewise  on  a  silver  dish,  a  roast  goose,  a 
roast  saddle  of  mutton,  roast  game,  and  all  sorts  of  adjuncts.  In 
this  way  can  a  gentleman  live  in  a  spunging-house  if  he  be  inclined ; 
and  over  this  repast  (which,  in  truth,  I  could  not  touch,  for,  let 
alone  having  dined,  my  heart  was  full  of  care) — over  this  meal  my 
friend  Gus  Hoskins  found  me,  when  he  received  the  letter  that  I 
had  despatched  to  him. 

Gus,  who  had  never  been  in  a  prison  before,  and  whose  heart 
failed  him  as  the  red-headed  young  Moses  opened  and  shut  for  him 
the  luunerous  iron  outer  doors,  was  struck  dumb  to  see  me  behind 
a  bottle  of  claret,  in  a  room  blazing  with  gilt  lamps ;  the  curtains 
were  down  too,  and  you  could  not  see  the  bars  at  the  windows ;  and 
Mr.  B.,  Mr.  Lock  the  Brighton  officer,  Mr.  Aminadab,  and  another 
rich  gentleman  of  his  trade  and  religious  persuasion,  were  chirping 
as  mei-rily,  and  looked  as  respectably,  as  any  noblemen  in  the  land. 

"  Have  him  in,"  said  Mr.  B.,  "  if  he's  a  friend  of  Mr.  Titmarsh'c; 
for,  cuss  me,  I  like  to  see  a  rogue  :  and  run  me  through,  Titmarsh, 
but  I  think  you  are  one  of  the  best  in  London.  You  beat  Brough  ; 
you  do,  by  Jove !  for  he  looks  like  a  rogue — anybody  would  swear 
to  him  ;  but  you  !  by  Jove,  you  look  the  very  picture  of  honesty  !  " 

"  A  deep  file,"  said  Aminadab,  winking  and  pointing  me  out  to 
his  friend  ]\Ir.  Jehoshaphat. 

"  A  good  one,"  says  Jehoshaphat. 

"  In  for  three  hundred  thousand  pound,"  says  Aminadab : 
"  Brough's  right-hand  man,  and  only  threc-and-twenty." 

"Mr.  Titmarsh,  sir,  your  'ealth,  sir,"  says  Mr.  Lock,  in  an 
ecstasy  of  admiration.  "Your  very  good  'ealth,  sir,  and  better  luck 
to  you  next  time." 

'  "  Pooh,  pooh  !  he's  all  right,'.'  says  ihninadab;  "let  him  alone." 

"  In  for  what  .? "  shouted  I,  quite  amazed.  "  Why,  sir,  you 
arrested  me  for  £90." 

"Yes,  but  you  are  in  for  half  a  million, — you  know  you  are. 
Them  debts  I  don't  count — them  paltry  tradesmen's  accounts.  I 
mean  Brough's  business.     It's  an  ugly  one ;  but  you'll  get  through 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     89 

it.     We  all  know  you  ;  and  I  lay   my  life  that  when  you  come 
through  the  court,  Mrs.  Titmarsh  has  got  a  handsome  thing  laid  by." 

"Mrs.  Titmarsh  has  a  small  property,  sir,"  savs  I.  "What 
then?" 

The  three  gentlemen  burst  into  a  loud  laugh,  said  I  was  a 
"  rum  chap  " — a  "  downy  cove,"  and  made  other  remarks  which 
I  could  not  understand  then ;  but  the  meaning  of  which  I  have 
since  comprehended,  for  they  took  me  to  be  a  great  rascal,  I  am 
sorry  to  say,  and  supposed  that  I  had  robbed  the  I.  W.  D. 
Association,  and,  in  order  to  make  my  money  secure,  settled  it  on 
my  wife. 

It  was  in  the  midst  of  this  conversation  that,  as  I  said,  Gus 
came  in  ;  and  whew !  when  he  saw  what  was  going  on,  ho  ga\'c 
such  a  whistle  ! 

"  Herr  von  Joel,  by  Jove ! "  says  Aminadab.  At  which  all 
laughed. 

"Sit  down,"  says  Mr.  B., — "sit  down,  and  wet  your  whistle, 
my  piper !  I  say,  egad !  you're  the  pijier  that  played  before 
Moses  !  Had  you  there.  Dab.  Dal),  get  a  fresh  bottle  of  Bur- 
gundy for  Mr.  Hoskins."  And  before  he  knew  where  he  was, 
there  was  Gus  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  drinking  Clos-Yougeot. 
Gus  said  he  liad  never  tasted  Bergamy  before,  at  which  the  bailiff 
sneered,  and  told  him  the  name  of  the  wine. 

"  Old  Clo  !  What  ? "  says  Gus ;  and  we  laughed :  l;)ut  the 
Hebrew  gents  did  not  this  time. 

"  Come,  come,  sir ! "  says  Mr.  Aminadab's  friend,  "  ve're  all 
shentlemen  here,  and  shentlemen  never  makish  reflexunsh  upon 
other  gentlemeu'sh  pershuashunsh." 

After  this  feast  was  concluded,  Gus  and  I  retired  to  my  room 
to  consult  about  my  afi'airs.  With  regard  to  the  responsibility 
incurred  as  a  shareholder  in  the  West  Diddlesex,  I  was  not  uneasy ; 
for  though  the  matter  might  cause  me  a  little  trouble  at  first,  I 
knew  I  was  not  a  shareholder ;  that  the  shares  were  scrip  shares, 
making  the  dividend  payable  to  the  bearer ;  and  my  aunt  had  called 
back  her  shares,  and  consequently  I  was  free.  But  it  was  very 
unpleasant  to  me  to  consider  that  I  was  in  debt  nearly  a  lumdred 
pounds  to  tradesmen,  chiefly  of  Mrs.  Hoggarty's  recommendation ; 
and  as  she  had  promised  to  be  answerable  fcjr  their  bills,  I  deter- 
mined to  send  her  a  letter  reminding  her  of  her  promi^^e,  and 
begging  her  at  the  same  time  to  relieve  me  from  Mr.  Von  Stiltz's 
debt,  for  which  I  was  arrested  :  and  which  was  incurred  not  certainly 
at  her  desire,  but  at  Mr.  Brough's  ;  and  would  never  have  been 
incurred  by  me  but  at  the  absolute  demand  of  that  gentleman. 

I  wrote,  to  her,  therefore,  begging  her  to  pay  all  these  debts, 
I 


90      THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

and  promised  myself  on  Monday  morning  again  to  be  with  my  dear 
wife.  Gus  carried  off  the  letter,  and  promised  to  deliver  it  in  Ber- 
nard Street  after  church-time ;  taking  care  that  Mary  shoidd  know 
nothing  at  all  of  the  painful  situation  in  which  I  was  placed.  It  was 
near  midnight  when  Ave  parted,  and  I  tried  to  sleep  as  well  as  I  could 
in  the  dirty  little  sofa-bedstead  of  Mr.  Aminadab's  back-parloiu*. 

Tliat  morning  was  fine  and  sunshiny,  and  I  heard  all  the  bells 
ringing  cheerfully  for  church,  and  longed  to  be  walking  to  the 
Foundling  with  my  wife  :  but  there  were  the  three  iron  doors 
between  me  and  liberty,  and  I  had  notliing  for  it  but  to  read  my 
prayers  in  my  own  room,  and  walk  up  and  down  afterwards  in  the 
court  at  the  back  of  the  house.  Would  you  believe  it  1  This  very 
court  was  like  a  cage  !  Great  iron  liars  covered  it  in  fi"om  one  end 
to  another ;  and  here  it  was  that  ]Mr.  Aminadab's  gaol-birds  took 
the  air. 

They  had  seen  me  rending  out  of  the  prayer-book  at  the  back- 
parlour  window,  and  all  burst  into  a  yell  of  laughter  when  I  came 
to  walk  in  the  cage.  One  of  them  shouted  out  "  Amen  ! "  when  I 
appeared;  another  called  me  a  muff  (which  means,  in  the  slang 
langixage,  a  very  silly  fellow)  ;  a  third  wondered  that  I  took  to 
my  prayer-book  i/et. 

"  When  do  you  mean,  sir?"  says  I  to  the  fellow — a  rough  man, 
a  horse-dealer. 

Why,  when  you  are  lioing  to  he  hanged,  you  young  hypocrite!" 
says  the  man.    "  But  that  is  always  the  way  with  Brough's  people,"^ 
continued  he.     "  I  had  four  gi'eys  once  for  him — a  great  bargain, 
but  he  would  not  go  to  look  at  them  at  Tattersall's,  nor  speak  a 
word  of  business  about  them,  because  it  was  a  Sunday." 

"  Because  there  are  hyi)0crite3,  sir,"  says  I,  "  religion  is  not  to 
be  considered  a  bad  thing :  and  if  Mr.  Brough  would  not  deal  with 
you  on  a  Sunday,  he  certainly  did  his  duty." 

The  men  only  laughed  the  more  at  this  rebuke,  and  evidently 
considered  me  a  great  criminal.  I  was  glad  to  be  released  from 
their  society  by  the  a]ipearance  of  Gus  and  ^Ir.  Smithers.  Both  wore 
very  long  faces.  They  were  ushered  into  my  room,  and,  without 
any  orders  of  mine,  a  bottle  of  wine  and  biscuits  were  brought  in 
by  Mr.  Aminadab  ;  which  I  really  thought  Avas  very  kind  of  him. 

"  Drink  a  glass  of  wine,  Mr.  Titmarsh,"  says  Smithers,  "  and 
read  this  letter.  A  pretty  note  was  tliat  which  you  sent  to  your 
aunt  this  moniing,  and  here  you  have  an  answer  to  it." 

I  drank  the  wine,  and  trembled  rather  as  I  read  as  follows : — 

"  SiK, — If,  because  you  knew  I  had  desined  to  leave  you  my 
prop;irty,  you  wished  to  murdar  me,  and  so  stepp  into,  it,  you  are 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     91 

»lissiii)oint(Ml.  Your  mlliany  and  ingratitude  would  have  miirdard 
me,  had  I  not,  by  Heiivcn's  grace,  been  uiabled  to  lo<>k  for  consala- 
tiou  elsewhere. 

"  For  nearly  a  year  I  liavc  been  a  inartar  to  yon.  I  ,s;ave  up 
everything, — my  happy  home  in  the  country,  Avlierc  all  respected 
the  name  <:»f  Hoggtu'ty  ;  my  valuble  furnitur  and  wines ;  my  plate, 
glass,  and  crockry ;  I  brought  all — all  to  make  your  home  happy 
and  ri.spectable.  I  put  up  with  the  airs  and  im2)e7-tane7icies  of 
Mrs.  Titmarsh ;  I  loaded  her  and  you  with  presents  and  bennafits. 
I  saorafised  myself;  I  gave  up  the  l>est  sociaty  in  the  land,  to  witch 
I  have  been  accustomed,  in  order  to  te  a  gardian  and  compannion 
to  you,  and  prevent,  if  ])ossible,  that  waist  and  ixtravyijance  which 
I  prophycied  would  l^e  your  rain.  Such  waist  and  ixtravygance 
never,  never,  never  did  I  see.  Buttar  waisted  as  if  it  had  been 
dirt,  coles  Hung  away,  candles  burnt  at  both  ends,  tea  and  meat  the 
same.  The  butclier's  bill  in  this  house  was  enough  to  support  six 
famalies. 

"  And  now  you  have  the  awlassaty,  being  placed  in  i)risun  justly 
for  your  ci"imes, — for  cheating  me  of  ^3000,  for  robbing  your  mother 
of  an  iusignificient  summ,  which  to  her,  jjour  thing,  was  everything 
(though  she  Avill  not  feel  her  loss  as  I  do,  lieing  all  her  life  next  door 
to  a  beggar),  for  incurring  detts  which  you  cannot  ])ay,  wherein  you 
knew  that  your  miserable  income  was  quite  unable  to  support  your 
ixtravygance — you  come  upon  me  to  i)ay  your  detts  !  No,  sir,  it  is 
quite  enough  that  your  mother  should  go  oft  the  parish,  and  that 
your  wife  should  sweep  the  streets,  to  which  you  have  indeed  brought 
them ;  /,  at  least,  tliougli  cheated  by  you  of  a  large  sunnn,  and 
obliged  to  pass  my  days  in  comparitive  niin,  can  retire,  and  have 
some  of  the  comforts  to  which  my  rank  e!ititles  me.  The  furnitur 
in  this  house  is  mine  ;  and  as  I  presume  you  intend  your  lady  to 
sleep  in  the  streets,  I  give  you  warning  that  I  shall  remove  it  all 
to-moiT<:)W. 

"Mr.  Smithers  will  tell  you  that  I  had  intended  to  leave  you 
my  intire  fortune.  I  have  this  morning,  in  his  presents,  solamly 
toar  up  my  will ;  and  hereby  renounce  all  connection  with  you  and 
yom-  beggOTly  family,  Susan  Hoggakty. 

"P.jS'. — I  took  a  viper  into  my  lx)Som,  and  it  stwui  ■me.'" 

I  confess  that,  on  tlie  first  reading  of  this  letter,  I  was  in  such 
a  fury  that  I  forgot  almost  the  painful  situation  in  which  it  jilimged 
me,  and  the  ruin  hanging  over  me. 

"  What  a  fool  you  Avere,  Titmarsh,  to  wnte  that  letter  ! "  s;xid 
Mr.  Smithers.     "  You  have  cut  your  own  throat,  sir, — lost  a  fine 


92       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMAESH 

property, — ^written  yourself  out  of  five  hundred  a  year.  Mrs. 
Hoggarty,  my  client,  brought  the  will,  as  she  says,  downstairs,  and 
flung  it  into  the  fire  before  our  faces." 

"  It's  a  blessing  that  your  wife  was  from  home,"  added  Gus. 
"  She  went  to  church  this  morning  with  Dr.  Salt's  fomily,  and  sent 
word  that  she  would  spend  the  day  with  them.  She  was  always 
glad  to  be  away  from  Mrs.  H.,  you  know." 

"  She  never  knew  on  which  side  her  bread  was  buttered,"  said 
Mr.  Smithers.  "You  should  have  taken  the  huly  when  she  was  in 
the  humour,  sir,  and  have  borrowed  the  money  elsewhere.  Why, 
sir,  I  had  almost  reconciled  her  to  her  loss  in  that  cursed  Comjiany. 
I  showed  her  how  I  had  saved  out  of  Brough's  claws  the  whole  of 
her  remaining  fortune  ;  which  he  would  have  devoured  in  a  day,  the 
scoundrel !  And  if  you  would  have  left  the  matter  to  me,  Mr. 
Titmarsh,  I  would  have  had  you  reconciled  completely  to  IMrs. 
Hoggarty  ;  I  would  have  removed  all  your  difficulties  ;  I  would  have 
lent  you  the  pitiful  sum  of  money  myself" 

"Will  you?"  says  Gus;  "that's  a  tnimp  I "  and  he  seized 
Sraithers's  hand,  and  squeezed  it  so  that  the  tears  came  into  the 
attorney's  eyes. 

"  Generous  fellow  !  "  said  I ;  "  lend  me  money,  when  you  know 
wliat  a  situation  I  am  in,  and  not  able  to  pay  I " 

"  Ay,  my  good  sir,  there's  the  rub  !  "  says  Mr.  Smithers.  "  I 
said  I  would  have  lent  the  money  ;  and  so  to  the  acknowledged 
heir  of  Mrs.  Hoggarty  I  would — would  at  this  moment ;  for  nothing 
delights  the  heart  of  Bob  Smithers  more  than  to  do  a  kindness. 
I  would  have  rejoiced  in  ditinL,^  it ;  and  a  mere  acknowledgment 
from  that  respected  lady  would  have  amply  sufficed.  But  now, 
sir,  the  case  is  altered, — you  have  no  security  to  offer,  as  you 
justly  observe." 

"  Not  a  whit,  certainly." 

"  And  Avith:)ut  security,  sir,  of  course  can  expect  no  money — of 
course  not.  You  are  a  man  of  the  world,  Mr.  Titmarsh,  and  I  see 
our  notions  ex;\ctly  agi^ee." 

"  There's  his  wife's  property,"  says  Gus. 

"Wife's  property  ?  Bah  !  Mrs.  Sam  Titmarsh  is  a  minor,  and 
can't  touch  a  shilling  of  it.  No,  no,  no  meddling  with  minors  for 
me !  But  stop  ! — your  mother  has  a  house  and  shop  in  our  village. 
Get  me  a  mortgage  of  that " 

"  I'll  do  no  such  thing,  sir,"  says  I.  "  My  mother  has  suffered 
quite  enough  on  my  score  already,  and  has  my  sisters  to  provide 
for  ;  and  I  will  thank  you,  Mr.  Smithers,  not  to  breathe  a  syllable 
to  her  regarding  my  present  situation.'" 

'You  speak  like  a  man  of  honour,  sir,"  says  Mr.  Smithers, 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     93 

"  ami  I  -will  obey  your  injunctions  to  the  letter.  I  will  do  more, 
sir.  I  will  introduce  you  to  a  respectable  firm  here,  iny  worthy 
friends,  Messrs.  Higgs,  Bigg.s,  and  Blatliefwick,  who  will  do  every- 
thing in  their  power  to  serve  you.  And  so,  sir,  I  wish  you  a  very 
good  morning." 

And  with  this  Mr.  Smithere  took  his  hat  and  left  the  room ; 
and  after  a  fiu'ther  consultation  with  my  aunt,  as  I  heard  afterwards, 
quitted  London  that  evening  by  the  mail. 

I  sent  my  faithful  Gus  off"  once  more  to  break  the  matter  gently 
to  my  wife,  fearing  lest  Mrs.  Hoggarty  sliou.ld  speak  of  it  abrujitly 
to  her ;  as  I  knew  in  her  anger  she  would  do.  But  he  came  in  an 
hour  ])anting  back,  to  say  that  Mrs.  H.  had  packed  and  locked  her 
trunks,  and  had  gone  oft'  in  a  hackney-coach.  So,  knowing  that  my 
poor  Mary  was  not  to  return  till  night,  Hoskins  remained  with  me 
till  tlien ;  and,  after  a  dismal  day,  left  me  once  more  at  nine,  to 
carry  the  dismal  tidings  to  her. 

At  ten  o'clock  on  that  night  there  was  a  great  rattling  and 
ringing  at  the  outer  door,  and  jjresently  my  poor  girl  fell  into  my 
arms ;  and  Gus  Hoskins  sat  blubbering  in  a  corner,  as  I  tried  my 
best  to  console  her. 

The  next  morning  I  was  favoured  with  a  visit  from  Mr.  Blather 
wick ;  who,  hearing  from  me  that  I  had  only  three  guineas  in  my 
pocket,  told  me  very  plainly  that  lawyers  only  lived  by  fees.  He 
recommended  me  to  quit  Cursitor  Street,  as  living  there  was  very 
expensive.  And  as  I  was  sitting  very  sad,  my  wife  made  her  a]>pear- 
ance  (it  was  -ftith  great  difficulty  that  she  could  be  lirought  to  leave 
me  the  night  i:)revious) — 

"  The  horrible  men  came  at  four  this  morning,"  said  she  ;  "  four 
hours  before  light." 

"  What  hon-ible  men  1 "  says  I. 

"Your  aunt's  men,"  said  she,  "to  remove  the  furniture:  they 
had  it  all  packed  before  I  came  away.  And  I  let  them  carry  all," 
said  she ;  "  I  was  too  sad  to  look  Avhat  was  ours  and  what  was  not. 
That  odious  Mr.  Wapshot  wjis  with  them  ;  and  I  left  him  seeing  the 
last  waggon-load  from  the  door.  I  have  only  brought  away  your 
clothes,"  added  she,  "  and  a  few  of  mine  ;  and  some  of  the  books  you 
used  to  like  to  read  ;  and  some— some  things  I  have  been  getting  for 
the— for  the  baby.  The  servants'  wages  were  paid  up  to  Christmas  ; 
and  I  i)aid  them  the  rest.  And  see  !  just  as  I  was  going  away,^  the 
post  came,  and  brought  to  me  my  half-year's  income — £35,  dear  Sam. 
Isn't  it  a  blessing  1 " 

"Will   you  pay  my  bill,  Mr.   What-d'ye-call-'im  ? "   here  cried 
Mr.  Amlnadab,  flinging  open  the  door  (he  had  been  consulting  with 
9 


94       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

Mr.  Blatherwick,  I  suppose).     "  I  want  the  room  for  a  (lentleman. 
guess  it's  too  dear  for  the  Uke  of  you."     And  here — will  you  believe 
it  ? — tlie  niiin  handed  me  a  bill  of  three  guineas  for  two  days'  board 
and  lodging  in  his  odious  house. 

•  •••••* 

There  was  a  crowd  of  idlers  round  the  door  as  I  passed  out  of  it, 
and  had  I  been  alone  I  should  have  been  ashamed  of  seeing  them ; 
but,  as  it  was,  I  was  only  thinking  of  my  dear  deax  wife,  who  was 
leaning  trustfully  on  my  arm,  and  smiling  like  heaven  int(3  my  foce — 
ay,  and  took  heaven,  too,  into  tlie  Fleet  prison  with  me — or  an  angel 
out  of  hcixven.  All !  I  had  loved  her  before,  and  happy  it  is  to  love 
wlien  one  is  hopeful  and  young  in  the  midst  of  smiles  and  sunshine  ; 
but  be  7<«happy,  and  then  sec  what  it  is  to  be  li  .vcd  by  a  good  woman  ! 
I  declare  before  Heaven,  that  of  all  tlie  joys  and  hapjty  moments  it  has 
given  me,  that  was  the  crowning  one — that  little  ride,  with  my  wife's 
cheek  on  my  shoulder,  down  Holborn  to  the  jnnson  !  Do  you  think 
I  cared  for  the  bailiff  that  sat  oppa'ite  ]  No,  by  the  Lord  !  I  kissed 
her,  and  hugged  her — yes,  and  cried  with  her  likewise.  But  before 
our  ride  was  over  her  eyes  dried  up,  and  she  stepped  blushing  and 
happy  out  of  tlie  coach  at  the  prison  door,  as  if  she  were  a  prmcess 
going  to  the  Queen's  Drawing-room. 


CHAPTER  XII 

IN  WHICH  THE  HERO'S  AUNT'S  DIAMOND  MAKES  ACQUAINT-     • 
ANCE   WITH   THE  HERO'S   UNCLE 

THE  failure  of  the  great  Diddlesex  Association  speedily  became 
the  theme  of  all  the  newspapers,  and  every  person  concerned 
in  it  was  soon  held  up  to  public  abhorrence  as  a  rascal  and  a 
swindler.  It  was  said  that  Brough  had  gone  otf  with  a  million  of 
money.  Even  it  was  hinted  that  poor  I  had  sent  a  hundred 
thousand  pounds  to  America,  and  only  waited  to  pass  through  the 
court  in  order  to  be  a  rich  man  for  the  rest  of  my  days.  This 
opinion  had  some  supporters  in  the  prison ;  where,  strange  to  say, 
it  procured  me  consideration — of  which,  as  may  be  sui)i)0sed,  I  was 
little  inclined  to  avail  myself.  Mr.  Aminadab,  however,  in  his 
frequent  visits  to  the  Fleet,  persisted  in  saying  that  I  was  a  poor- 
spirited  creature,  a  mere  tool  in  Brough's  hands,  and  had  not  saved 
a  shilling.  Ojiinions,  however,  diti'ered  ;  and  I  believe  it  was  con- 
sidered by  the  turnkeys  that  I  was  a  fellow  of  exquisite  dissimula- 
tion, who  had  put  on  tlie  apjiearance  of  poverty  in  order  more 
effectually  to  mislead  the  jaiblic. 

Messrs.  Abcdnego  and  Son  were  similarly  held  up  to  public 
odium  :  and,  in  fact,  what  were  the  exact  dealings  of  these  gentle- 
men with  Mr.  Brougli  I  have  never  been  able  to  learn.  It  was 
]iroved  by  the  books  that  large  sums  of  money  had  lieen  paid  to 
Mr.  Abednego  by  the  Company  ;  but  lie  produced  documents  signed 
by  Mr.  Brough,  which  made  the  latter  and  the  West  Diddlesex 
Association  his  debtors  to  a  still  further  amount.  On  the  day  I 
went  to  the  Bankruptcy  Court  to  be  examined,  Mr.  Abednego  and 
the  two  gentlemen  from  Houndsditch  were  present  to  swear  to  their 
debts,  and  made  a  sad  noise,  and  uttered  a  vast  number  of  oaths  in 
attestation  of  their  claim.  But  Messrs.  Jackson  and  Paxton  pro- 
tluced  against  them' that  very  Irish  porter  who  was  said  to  have  been 
the  cause  of  the  fire,  and,  I  am  told,  hinted  that  they  had  matter 
for  hanging  the  Jewish  gents  if  they  persisted  in  their  demand.  On 
this  they  disappeared  altogether,  and  no  more  was  ever  heard  of 
their  losses.  I  am  inclined  to  believe  that  oiu-  Director  had  had 
money  from  Abednego— had  given  him  shares  as  bonus  and  security 


96       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

— had  been  suddenly  obliged  to  redeem  these  shares  with  ready 
money ;  and  so  had  precipitated  the  ruin  of  himself  and  the  concern. 
It  is  needless  to  say  here  in  what  a  multiplicity  of  companies  Brough 
was  engaged.  That  in  which  i)oor  Mr.  Tidd  invested  his  money  did 
not  pay  2d.  in  the  pound ;  and  that  was  the  largest  di\'idend  paia 
by  any  of  tliem. 

As  for  ours — ah  !  there  was  a  pretty  scene  as  I  was  brought 
from  the  Fleet  to  the  Bankruptcy  Court,  to  give  my  testimony  as 
late  head  clerk  and  accountant  of  the  West  Diddlesex  Association. 

My  poor  wife,  then  very  near  her  time,  insisted  upon  accompany- 
ing me  to  Basinghall  Street ;  and  so  did  my  friend  Gus  Hoskins, 
that  true  and  honest  follow.  If  you  had  seen  the  crowd  that  was 
asticmbled,  and  the  hubbub  that  was  made  as  I  was  brouglit  up  ! 

"  Mr.  Titmarsh,"  says  the  Commissioner  as  I  came  to  the  table, 
with  a  peculiar  sarcastic  accent  on  the  Tit — "  Mr.  Titmarsh,  yon 
were  the  confidant  of  Mr.  Brough,  the  ])rincipal  clerk  of  Mr.  Brough, 
and  a  considerable  shareholder  in  tlio  Company  ? " 

"  Only  a  nominal  one,  sir,"  said  I. 

"  Of  course,  only  nominal,"  continued  the  Commissioner,  turning 
to  his  colleague  with  a  sneer;  "and  a  great  comfort  it  must  be  to 
you,  sir,  to  think  that  you  liad  a  share  in  all  the  plan — the  profits 
of  the  speculation,  and  now  can  free  yourself  from  the  losses,  by 
«aying  you  are  only  a  nominal  shareholder." 

"The  infernal  villain!"  shouted  out  a  voice  from  the  crowd. 
It  was  that  of  the  furious  half-pay  captain  and  late  shareholder, 
Captain  Sjjarr. 

"Silence  in  the  court  there!"  the  Commissioner  continued: 
and  all  this  while  Mary  was  anxiously  looking  in  his  fiice,  and 
then  in  mine,  as  pale  as  death ;  while  Gus,  on  the  contrary,  was 
as  red  as  vermilion.  "Mr.  Titmarsh,  I  have  had  the  good  fortune 
to  see  a  list  of  your  debts  from  the  Insolvent  Court,  and  find  that 
you  are  indebted  to  Mr.  Stiltz,  the  great  tailor,  in  a  handsome  sum  ; 
to  Mr.  Polonius,  the  celebrated  jeweller,  likewise;  to  foshionable 
milliners  and  dressmakers,  moreover; — and  all  this  upon  a  salary 
of  £200  per  annum.  For  so  yoxmg  a  gentleman  it  must  be  con- 
fessed you  have  employed  your  time  well." 

"Has   this   anything  to  do  with   the   question,   sir?"   says  I 
"Am  I  here  to  give  an  account  of  my  private  debts,  or  to  speak 
as  to  what  I  know  regarding  the  aftairs  of  the  Company  1     As  for 
my  share  in  it,  I  have  a  mother,  sir,  and  many  sisters " 

"  The  d — d  scoundrel !  "  shouts  the  Captain. 

"  Silence  that  there  fellow  !  "  shouts  Gus,  as  bold  as  brass  ,•  at 
which  the  court  burst  out  laughing,  and  this  gave  me  courage  lo 
proceed. 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     97 

"  My  mother,  sir,  four  years  since,  having  a  legacy  of  £400  left 
to  her,  advised  with  her  solicitor,  Mr,  Smithers,  how  she  should 
disjjose  of  this  sum ;  and  as  the  Independent  West  Diddlesex  was 
just  then  established,  the  money  was  placed  in  an  annuity  in  that 
office,  where  I  procured  a  clerkship.  You  may  suppose  me  a  very 
hanlened  criminal,  because  I  have  ordered  clothes  of  Mr.  Von 
Stiltz ;  but  you  will  hardly  fancy  that  I,  a  lad  of  nineteen,  knew 
anything  of  the  concerns  of  tlie  Company  into  whose  service  I 
entered  as  twentieth  clerk,  my  own  mother's  money  paying,  as  it 
were,  for  my  place.  "Well,  sir,  the  interest  offered  by  the  Company 
was  so  tempting,  that  a  ricli  relative  of  mine  was  induced  to 
purchase  a  uumber  of  shares." 

"  IVho  induced  your  relative,  if  I  may  make  so  bold  as  to 
inquire  ? " 

"  I  can't  help  owning,  sir,"  says  I,  blushing,  "  that  I  wrote  a 
letter  myself  But  consider,  my  relative  was  sixty  years  old,  and 
I  was  twenty-one.  My  relative  took  several  months  to  consider, 
and  had  the  advice  of  her  lawyers  before  she  acceded  to  my  request. 
And  I  made  it  at  the  instigation  of  Mr.  Brough,  who  dictated  the 
letter  which  I  wrote,  and  who  I  really  thought  tlien  was  as  rich 
as  Mr.  Rothschild  himself" 

"Your  friend  placed  her  money  in  your  name;  and  you,  if  I 
mistake  not,  Mr.  Titmarsh,  were  suddenly  placed  over  the  heads 
of  twelve  of  y(3ur  fellow-clerks  as  a  reward  for  your  service  in 
obtaining  it  ? " 

"  It  is  very  true,  sir," — and,  as  I  confessed  it,  poor  Mary  began 
to  wipe  her  eyes,  and  Gus's  cars  (I  could  not  see  his  face)  looked 
like  two  red-hot  nuiffins — "it's  quite  true,  sir;  and,  as  matters 
have  turned  out,  I  am  heartily  sorry  for  what  I  did.  But  at  the 
time  I  thought  I  could  serve  my  aunt  as  well  as  myself;  and  you 
must  remember,  then,  how  high  our  shares  were." 

"Well,  sir,  having  procured  this  sum  of  money,  you  were 
straightway  taken  into  Mr.  Brough's  confidence.  You  were  re- 
ceived into  his  house,  and  from  third  clerk  speedily  became  head 
clerk ;  in  which  post  you  were  found  at  tlie  disappearance  of  your 
worthy  patron  ! ' 

"  Sir,  you  have  no  right  to  question  me,  to  be  sure ;  but  here 
are  a  hundred  of  our  shareholders,  and  I'm  not  uuAvilling  to  make 
a  clean  breast  of  it,"  said  I,  pressing  Mary's  hand.  "  I  certainly 
iras  the  head  clerk.  And  why  1  Because  the  other  gents  left  tlie 
office.  I  certainly  was  received  into  Mr.  Brough's  house.  And 
why '?  Because,  sir  mj/  aunt  had  more  money  to  lay  otit.  I  see 
it  all  clearly  now,  tliough  I  could  not  understand  it  then ;  and  the 
proof  tliat  Mr.  Brough  wanted  my  aunt's  money,  and  not  me,  is 


I 


98       THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

that,  when  she  came  to  town,  our  Director  carried  her  by  force 
out  of  my  house  to  Fulham,  and  never  so  much  as  thought  of 
asking  me  or  my  wife  tliither.  Ay,  sir,  and  he  woidd  have  had 
her  remaining  money,  had  not  her  lawyer  from  the  country  pre- 
vented her  disposing  of  it.  Before  the  concern  finally  broke,  and 
as  soon  as  she  heard  there  was  doubt  concerning  it,  she  took  back 
her  shares — scrip  shares  they  were,  sir,  as  you  know — and  has  dis- 
posed of  them  as  she  thought  fit.  Here,  sir,  and  gents,"  says  I, 
"  you  have  the  whole  of  the  historj-  as  far  as  regards  me.  In  order 
to  get  her  only  son  a  means  of  livelihood,  my  mother  placed  her 
little  money  with  the  Company — it  is  lost.  My  aunt  invested 
larger  sums  with  it,  which  were  to  have  been  mine  one  day,  and 
they  are  lost  too ;  and  here  am  I,  at  the  end  of  four  years,  a  dis- 
graced and  ruined  man.  Is  tliere  any  one  iiresent,  however  nuieh 
he  lias  suffered  by  the  failure  of  the  Company,  that  has  had  worse 
fortune  through  it  than  I  ? " 

"  Mr.  Titmarsh,"  says  Mr.  Commissioner,  in  a  much  more 
friendly  way,  and  at  the  same  time  casting  a  glance  at  a  news- 
paper reporter  that  was  sitting  hard  by,  "  your  story  is  not  likely 
to  get  into  the  ncwspajjcrs  ;  for,  as  you  say,  it  is  a  private  affair, 
which  you  had  no  need  to  sjK-ak  of  unless  you  thought  proper,  and 
may  be  considered  as  a  confidential  conversation  between  us  and 
the  other  gentlemen  here.  But  if  it  cmdd  be  made  public,  it  might 
do  some  good,  and  warn  peojjle,  if  they  tvill  be  warned,  against  tlie 
folly  of  such  enterprises  as  that  in  which  you  have  been  engaged. 
It  is  quite  clear  from  your  story,  that  you  have  been  deceived  as 
grossly  as  any  one  of  the  persons  jiresent.  But  look  you,  sir,  if  you 
had  not  been  so  eager  after  gain,  I  think  you  wouM  not  have  allowed 
yourself  to  be  deceived,  and  would  have  kei)t  your  relative's  money, 
and  inherited  it,  according  to  your  story,  one  day  or  other.  Directly 
peoi)le  expect  to  make  a  large  interest,  their  judgment  seems  to 
desert  them ;  and  because  they  wish  for  profit,  they  think  they  are 
sure  of  it,  and  disregard  all  warnings  and  all  prudence.  Besides 
the  hundreds  of  honest  families  Avho  have  l)een  ruined  by  merely 
placing  confidence  in  this  Association  of  yours,  and  who  deserve  the 
heartiest  pity,  there  are  hundreds  more  who  have  embarked  in  it, 
like  yourself,  not  for  investment,  but  for  speculation ;  and  these, 
u]>!in  my  word,  deserve  the  fate  they  have  met  with.  As  long  as 
dividends  are  paid,  no  questions  are  asked ;  and  Mr.  Brough  might 
have  taken  the  money  for  his  shareholders  on  the  high-road,  and 
they  would  have  pocketed  it,  and  not  been  too  curious.  But  what's 
the  use  of  talking  ? "  says  Mr.  Commissioner,  in  a  passion  :  "  here 
is  one  rogue  detected,  and  a  thousand  dupes  made ;  and  if  another 
swindler  starts  to-morrow,  there  will  be  a  thousand  more  of  his 


I 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     99 

victims  round  this  table  a  year  hence;  and  so,  I  suppose,  to  tho 
end.  And  now  let's  go  to  business,  gentlemen,  and  excuse  this 
sermon." 

After  giving  an  account  of  all  I  knew,  which  was  very  little, 
other  gents  who  were  employed  in  the  concern  were  examined  ;  and 
I  went  back  to  prison,  with  my  poor  little  wife  on  my  arm.  We 
had  to  pass  through  the  crowd  in  the  rooms,  and  my  heart  bled  as 
I  saw,  amongst  a  score  of  others,  poor  Gates,  Brough's  porter,  who 
liad  advanced  every  shilling  to  his  master,  and  was  now,  with  ten 
children,  houseless  and  penniless  in  his  old  age.  Ca|)tain  Sparr  was 
in  this  neighbourhood,  but  by  no  means  so  friendly  disposed ;  for 
while  Gates  touched  his  hat,  as  if  I  had  been  a  lord,  the  Httle 
Captain  came  forward  threatening  with  his  bamboo-cane  and  swear- 
ing with  great  oaths  that  I  was  an  accomplice  of  Brough.  "Curse 
you  for  a  smooth-faced  scoundrel ! "  says  he.  "What  l)usiness  have 
you  to  ruin  an  English  gentleman,  as  you  have  me  1 "  And  again 
he  advanced  witli  his  stick.  But  this  time,  officer  as  he  was,  Gus 
took  him  by  the  collar,  and  shoved  him  Ijack,  and  said,  "  Look  at 
the  lady,  you  brute,  and  hold  your  tongue  ! "  And  when  he  looked 
at  my  wife's  situation.  Captain  Si)arr  became  redder  for  shame  than 
he  had  before  been  for  anger.  "I'm  sorry  she's  married  to  such  a 
good-ibr-notliing,"  muttered  he,  and  fell  back;  and  my  poor  Avife 
and  I  walked  out  of  the  court,  and  back  to  our  dismal  room  in 
the  prison. 

It  was  a  hard  place  for  a  gentle  creature  like  her  to  be  confined 
in ;  and  I  longed  to  have  some  of  my  relatives  with  her  when  her 
time  should  come.  But  her  grandmother  could  not  leave  tlie  old 
lieutenant;  and  my  mother  had  written  to  say  that,  as  Mrs. 
Hoggarty  was  with  us,  she  was  quite  as  well  at  home  with  her 
children.  "What  a  blessing  it  is  for  you,  under  your  misfortunes," 
continued  the  good  soul,  "  to  have  the  generous  purse  of  your  aunt 
for  succour  !  "  Generous  purse  of  my  aunt,  indeed  !  Where  could 
Mrs.  Hoggarty  be  ?  It  was  evident  that  she  had  not  written  to  any 
of  her  friends  in  the  country,  nor  gone  thither,  as  she  threatened. 

But  as  my  mother  had  already  lost  so  much  money  through  my 
unfortunate  luck,  and  as  she  had  enough  to  do  with  her  little  idttance 
to  keep  my  sisters  at  home ;  and  as,  on  hearing  of  my  condition, 
she  would  infiiUibly  have  sold  her  last  gown  to  bring  me  aid,  IMary 
and  I  agreed  that  we  would  not  let  her  know  what  our  real  condi- 
tion was — bad  enough  !  Heaven  knows,  and  sad  and  cheerless.  Old 
Lieutenant  Smith  had  likewise  nothing  but  his  half-pay  and  hi* 
rheumatism  ;  so  we  were,  in  feet,  quite  friendless. 

Tiiat  period  of  my  life,  and  that  horrible  prison,  seem  to  me 
like  recollections  of  some  fever.     What  an  awful  jilace  ! — not  for 


I 


loo     THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

the  sadness,  strangely  enough,  as  I  thought,  but  for  the  gaiety  of 
it ;  for  the  long  prison  galleries  were,  I  remember,  full  of  life  and  a 
sort  of  grave  bustle.  All  day  and  all  night  doors  were  clapping  to 
and  fro ;  and  you  heard  loud  voices,  oaths,  footsteps,  and  laughter. 
Next  door  to  our  room  was  one  where  a  man  sold  gin,  imder  the 
name  of  tai^e ;  and  here,  from  moniing  till  night,  the  people  kept 
up  a  horrible  revelry ; — and  sang — sad  songs  some  of  them :  but 
my  dear  little  girl  "was,  thank  God  !  unable  to  understand  the  most 
part  of  their  ribaldry.  She  never  used  to  go  out  till  nightfall ,-  and 
all  day  she  sat  working  at  a  little  store  of  caps  and  dresses  for  the 
exjjcctcd  stranger — and  not,  she  says  to  this  day,  luihappy.  But 
the  confinement  sickened  her,  who  had  been  used  to  happy  coimtry 
air,  and  she  grew  daily  paler  and  paler. 

The  Fives  Court  was  opposite  our  window ;  and  here  I  used, 
very  unwillingly  at  first,  but  afterwards,  I  do  coHfess,  with  much 
eagerness,  to  take  a  couple  of  hours'  daily  sport.  All !  it  was  a 
strange  place.  There  was  an  aristocracy  there  r..5  elsewhere, — 
amongst  other  gents,  a  son  of  my  Lord  Deuccacc ;  and  many  of  the 
men  in  the  prison  were  as  eager  to  walk  with  him,  and  talked  of 
his  family  as  knowingly,  as  if  they  were  Bond  Street  bucks.  Poor 
Tidd,  especially,  was  one  of  these.  Of  all  Ids  fortune  he  had 
nothing  left  but  a  dressing-case  and  a  flowered  dressing-gown ;  and 
to  these  possessions  he  added  a  fine  pair  of  moustaches,  with  which 
the  poor  creature  stmtted  about ;  and  thougli  cursing  his  ill-fortune, 
was,  I  do  believe,  as  happy  whenever  his  friends  brought  him  a 
guinea,  as  he  had  been  during  his  brief  career  as  a  gentleman  on 
town.  I  liave  seen  sauntering  dandies  in  watering-places  ogling  the 
wonien,  watching  cagcrlv  for  steamboats  and  stage-coaches  as  if 
their  lives  depended  upon  them,  and  strutting  all  day  in  jackets  up 
and  down  the  public  walks.  Well,  there  are  such  fellows  in  prison  : 
quite  as  dandifidl  and  foolish,  only  a  little  more  shabby — dandies 
Avith  dirty  bcai'ds  and  holes  at  tlicir  elbows. 

I  did  not  go  near  what  is  called  the  poor  side  of  the  prison — I 
dared  not,  that  was  the  fact.  But  our  little  stock  of  money  was 
running  lovi^ ;  and  my  heart  sickened  to  think  what  might  be  my 
dear  wife's  fate,  and  on  what  sort  of  a  couch  our  child  might  bo 
born.  Bit  Heaven  spared  me  that  pang, — Heaven,  and  my  dear 
good  friend,  Gus  Hoskins. 

The  attorneys  to  whom  Mr.  Smithers  recommended  me,  told  ino 
that  I  could  get  leave  to  live  in  the  rules  of  the  Fleet,  coidd  I 
procure  sureties  to  the  marshal  of  the  prison  for  the  amount  of  the 
detainer  lodged  against  me ;  but  though  I  looked  ]\Ir.  Blathci'U'ick 
hard  in  the  face,  he  never  offered  to  give  the  bail  for  me,  and  I 
knew  no  housekeeper  in  London  who  would  procure  it.     There  was, 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND 


lor 


however,  one  whom  I  did  not  know, — and  that  was  old  Mr.  Hoskins, 
the  leatherseller  of  Skinner  Street,  a  kind  fat  gentleman,  who 
brought  liis  flit  wife  to  see  Mrs.  Titmaisli ;  and  tliough  the  lady 
gave  lierself  rather  patronising  airs  (her  husband  being  free  of  tho 
Skinners'  Company,  and  bidding  fair  to  be  Alderman,  nay,  Lord 
Mayor  of  the  first  city  in  the  world),  she  seemed  heartily  to  sympa- 
thise witli  us  ;  and  her  husband  stirred  and  bustled  about  until 
the  requisite  leave  was  obtained,  and  I  was  allowed  comparative 
liberty. 

As  for  lodgings,  tliey  were  soon  had.  My  old  landlady,  Mrs. 
Stokes,  sent  lier  Jemima  to  say  that  her  first  floor  was  at  our 
service ;  and  when  we  had  taken  possession  of  it,  and  I  ofiered  at 
the  end  of  the  week  to  pay  her  bill,  the  good  soul,  with  tc;xi-s  in 
her  eyes,  told  me  tliat  she  did  not  want  for  money  now,  ami  that 
she  knew  I  had  enough  to  do  with  Avliat  I  had.  I  did  not  refuse 
her  kindness ;  for,  indeed,  I  had  but  five  guineas  left,  and  ought 
not  by  rights  to  have  thought  of  such  expensive  apartments  as 
hers  ;  but  my  wife's  time  was  very  neai-,  and  I  could  not  bear  to 
think  tliat  she  sliould  want  for  any  comfort  in  her  lying-in. 

The  admirable  woman,  with  whom  the  Misses  Hoskins  came 
everyday  to  keep  coiupany — and  very  nice,  kind  ladies  tlicy  are — 
recovered  her  hculth  a  good  deal,  now  she  Avas  out  of  the  odious 
prison  and  was  enabled  to  take  exercise.  How  gaily  did  we  pace 
up  and  down  Bridge  Street  and  Chatham  Place,  to  be  sure  !  and 
yet,  in  truth,  I  was  a  beggar,  and  felt  sometimes  ashamed  of  being 
so  hap])y. 

With  regard  to  the  liabilities  of  the  Company  my  mind  was 
now  made  quite  easy ;  for  the  creditors  could  only  come  upon  oiu- 
directors,  and  these  it  was  rather  difiicult  to  find.  Mr.  Brough  was 
across  the  water ;  and  I  must  say,  to  the  credit  of  that  gentleman, 
that  while  everybody  thought  he  had  run  away  with  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  poimds,  he  was  in  a  garret  at  Boulogne,  -with  sctu'ce  a 
shilling  in  his  pocket,  and  his  fortune  to  make  afresh.  Mrs.  Brough. 
like  a  good  brave  woman,  remained  faithful  to  him,  and  only  left 
Fulhaui  with  the  gown  on  her  back ;  and  Miss  Belinda,  though 
grumbling  and  sadly  out  of  temper,  was  no  better  ott".  For  the 
other  directors, — Avhcn  they  came  to  inquire  at  Edinburgh  for  Mr. 
Mull,  W.S.,  it  appeared  there  tvas  a  gentleman  of  tliat  name,  who 
had  practised  in  Edinburgh  with  good  reputation  until  ISOO,  f  ince 
when  he  had  retired  to  the  Isle  of  Skye ;  and  on  being  a])plied  to, 
knew  no  more  of  the  West  Diddlesex  Association  than  Queen  Anne 
did:  General  Sir  Dionysius  O'Halloran  had  abruptly  quitted 
Dublin,  and  returned  to  the  repul)Uc  of  Guatemala.  Mr.  Shirk 
went  into  the  Gazette.     Mr.  Macraw,  M.P.  and  King's   Counsel, 


102     THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

had  not  a  single  guinea  in  the  world  but  what  he  received  for  at- 
tending our  board  ;  and  the  only  man  seizable  was  Mr.  Manstraw, 
a  wealthy  navy  contractor,  as  we  understood,  at  Chatham.  He 
turned  out  to  be  a  small  dealer  in  marine  stores,  and  his  whole 
stock  in  trade  was  not  worth  £10.  Mr.  Abednego  was  the  other 
director,  and  we  have  already  seen  what  became  of  him. 

"  Wliy,  as  there  is  no  danger  from  the  West  Diddlesex,"'  sug- 
gested Mr,  Hoskins,  senior,  "should  you  not  now  endeavour  to 
make  an  arrangement  with  your  creditors ;  and  who  can  make  a 
better  bargain  with  them  than  i)retty  Mi^.  Titmarsh  liere,  whose 
sweet  eyes  woidd  soften  the  hardest-hearted  tailor  or  milliner  that 
ever  lived  ? " 

Accordingly  my  dear  girl,  one  bright  day  in  February,  shook  me 
by  the  hand,  and  bidding  me  be  of  good  cheer,  .set  forth  with  Gus 
ill  a  coach,  to  pay  a  visit  to  those  persons.  Little  did  I  think  a 
year  before,  that  the  daughter  of  the  gallant  Smith  shoidd  ever  be 
compelled  to  be  a  Rupi)liant  to  tailors  and  liahcrdashers ;  but  she. 
Heaven  bless  her !  felt  none  of  the  shame  which  oppressed  me — or 
sf.iid  she  felt  none — and  went  away,  nothing  doubting,  on  her  errand. 

In  the  evening  she  came  back,  and  my  heart  thumped  to  know 
the  news.  I  savr  it  was  bad  by  her  face.  For  some  time  she  did 
not  speak,  but  looked  as  jiale  as  death,  and  wept  as  she  kissed  me. 
"  You  speak,  Mr.  Augustus,"  at  la.st  said  slie,  sobbing ;  and  so  Gus 
told  me  the  circumstances  of  that  dismal  day 

"  What  do  you  think,  Sam  ? "  says  he  ;  "  that  infernal  aunt  of 
yours,  at  whose  command  you  had  tlie  things,  luxs  written  to  the 
tradesmen  to  say  that  you  are  a  swindler  and  impostor ;  that  you 
give  out  that  she  ordered  the  goods ;  that  she  is  ready  to  drop  di>wn 
dead,  and  to  take  her  Bible-oath  she  never  did  any  such  thing,  and 
that  they  must  look  to  you  alone  for  payment.  Not  one  of  them 
would  hear  of  letting  you  out  ;  and  as  for  Mantalini,  the  scoundrel 
was  so  insolent  tliat  I  gave  him  a  box  on  the  ear,  and  would  have 
half-kille;l  him,  only  poor  Mary — Mrs.  Titinarsh  I  mean— screamed 
and  fainted :  and  I  brought  her  away,  and  here  she  is,  as  ill  as 
can  be." 

That  night,  tlie  indefatigable  Gus  was  obliged  to  run  post-haste 
for  Doctor  Salts,  and  next  morning  a  little  boy  was  born.  I  did 
not  know  whether  to  be  sad  or  happy,  as  they  showed  me  the  little 
weakly  thing  :  but  3Iary  was  the  ha]ii>iest  woman,  she  declared,  in 
the  world,  and  forgot  all  her  sorrows  in  nursing  the  poor  baby  ;  she 
went  bravely  through  her  time,  and  vowed  that  it  was  the  loveliest 
chilli  in  the  world  :  and  that  though  Lady  Tijitoff,  whose  confinement 
we  read  of  as  liaviiiir  taken  place  tlie  same  day,  might  have  a  silk 
bed  and  a  fine  house  in  Grosvenor  Square,  she  never  never  could 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     103 

have  such  a  beautiful  child  as  our  dear  little  Gus  :  for  after  whom 
should  Ave  have  named  the  boy,  if  not  after  our  good  kind  friend  1 
We  had  a  little  party  at  the  christening,  and  I  assure  yon  were  very 
meny  over  our  tea. 

The  mother,  thank  Heaven !  was  very  well,  and  it  did  one's 
heart  good  to  see  her  in  that  attitude  in  which  I  think  every  woman, 
be  she  ever  so  jilain,  looks  beautiful — with  her  baby  at  her  bosom. 
The  child  was  sickly,  but  she  did  not  see  it ;  we  were  very  poor, 
but  what  cared  she  1  She  liad  no  leisure  to  be  sorrowful  as  I  was  : 
I  liad  my  last  guinea  now  in  my  pocket ;  and  when  that  was  gone 
—  ah  !  my  heart  sickened  to  think  of  what  was  to  come,  and  I 
prayed  for  strength  and  guidance,  and  in  the  midst  of  my  perplexities 
felt  yet  thankful  that  the  danger  of  the  confinement  was  over ;  and 
tliat  for  the  worst  fortune  which  was  to  befall  us,  my  dear  wife  was 
at  least  prepared,  and  strong  in  health. 

I  told  Mrs.  Stokes  that  she  must  let  us  have  a  cheaper  room — - 
a  garret  tluit  should  cost  but  a  few  shillings ;  and  though  the  good 
woman  bade  me  remain  in  the  apartments  we  occupied,  yet,  now 
that  my  wife  was  well,  I  felt  it  w^ould  be  a  crime  to  deprive  my  kind 
landlady  of  her  chief  means  of  liveliiiood  ;  and  at  length  she  promised 
to  get  me  a  garret  as  I  wanted,  and  to  make  it  as  comfortaWe  as 
might  be  ;  and  little  Jemima  declared  that  she  would  be  glad  beyond 
measure  to  wait  on  the  mother  and  the  cliild. 

The  room,  then,  was  made  ready ;  and  though  I  took  some  pains 
not  to  speak  of  tlie  arrangement  to(3  suddenly  to  Mary,  yet  there 
was  no  need  of  disguise  or  hesitation ;  for  when  at  last  I  told  her — 
"Is  that  all?"  said  she,  and  took  my  hand  with  one  of  her  blessed 
smiles,  and  vowed  that  she  and  Jemima  would  keep  the  room  as 
pretty  and  neat  as  possible.  "  And  I  will  cook  your  dinners,"  added 
she ;  "  for  you  know  you  said  I  make  the  best  roly-poly  puddings  in 
the  world."  God  bless  her  !  I  do  think  some  women  almost  love 
poverty  :  but  I  did  not  tell  Mary  hoAV  poor  I  was,  nor  had  she  any 
idea  how  lawyers',  and  prison's,  and  doctors'  fees  had  diminished  the 
sum  of  money  which  she  brought  me  when  we  came  to  the  Fleet. 

It  was  not,  however,  destined  that  she  and  her  child  should  in- 
habit that  little  garret.  We  were  to  leave  our  lodgings  on  Monday 
morning ;  but  on  Saturday  evening  the  child  was  seized  with  con- 
vulsions, and  all  Sunday  the  mother  watched  and  prayed  for  it : 
but  it  pleased  God  to  take  the  inniwent  infant  from  ns,  and  on 
Simday,  at  midnight,  it  lay  a  cori)se  in  its  mother's  bosom.  Amen. 
We  have  other  children,  happy  and  well,  now  round  about  us,  and 
from  the  fiither's  heart  the  memory  of  this  little  thing  has  almost 
faded ;  but  I  do  believe  that  every  day  of  her  life  the  mother  thinks 
of  the  firstborn  that  was  with  her  for  so  short  a  while  :  many  and 


I04     THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

mauy  a  time  has  she  taken  her  daughters  to  the  grave,  m  Samt 
Bride's,  "where  he  hes  buried ;  and  she  wears  still  at  her  neck  a 
httle  little  lock  of  gold  hair,  which  she  took  from  the  head  of  the 
intant  as  he  lay  smiling  in  his  coffin.  It  has  happened  to  me  to 
forget  the  child's  birthday,  but  to  her  never;  and  often  in  the 
midst  of  common  talk  comes  something  that  shows  she  is  thinlcing 
of  the  child  still, — some  simple  allusion  that  is  to  me  inexpressibly 
aftecting. 

I  shall  not  try  to  describe  her  grief,  for  such  things  are  sacred 
and  secret ;  and  a  man  has  no  business  to  place  them  on  paper  for 
all  the  world  to  read.  Nor  shoukl  I  have  mentioned  tlie  child's 
loss  at  all,  but  that  even  that  loss  was  the  means  of  a  great 
worldly  blessing  to  us  ;  as  my  wife  has  often  with  tears  and  thanks 
acknowledged. 

While  my  wife  was  weeping  over  her  child,  I  am  ashamed  to 
say  I  was  distracted  with  other  feelings  besides  those  of  gi-ief  for 
its  loss;  and  I  have  often  since  thought  what  a  master — nay, 
destroyer — of  the  attections  Avant  is,  and  have  learned  from  expe- 
rience to  be  thankful  for  daily  bread.  That  acknowledgment  of 
weakness  whi<'h  we  make  in  iniplnring  to  be  relieved  from  humrer 
and  from  temptation,  is  smxly  wisely  put  in  our  daily  prayer.  Think 
of  it,  y(ju  wlio  are  rich,  and  take  heed  how  you  turn  a  beggar  away. 

The  child  lay  there  in  its  wicker  cradle,  with  its  sweet  tixed 
smile  in  its  face  (I  think  the  angels  in  heaven  must  have  been  glad 
to  welcome  that  jiretty  innocent  smile) ;  and  it  was  only  the  next 
day,  after  my  wife  had  gone  to  lie  downi,  and  I  sat  keeping  watcii 
liy  it,  that  I  remembered  the  cimdition  of  its  i)arents,  and  thought, 
I  can't  tell  witli  Avhat  a  pang,  tiiat  I  had  not  money  left  to  bury 
the  little  thing,  and  wept  l.ntter  tears  of  despair.  Now,  at  last, 
I  thought  I  must  a])i)ly  to  my  poor  mother,  for  this  was  a  sacred 
necessity;  and  I  took  paper,  and  wrote  her  a  letter  at  the  baby's 
side,  and  told  her  of  our  condition.  But,  thank  Heaven  !  I  never 
Bent  the  letter ;  for  as  I  went  to  the  desk  to  get  sealing-wax  and 
seal  that  dismal  letter,  my  eyes  fell  upnn  the  diamond-pin  that  I  had 
quite  forgotten,  and  that  was  lying  in  the  drawer  of  the  desk. 

I  looked  into  the  betb'oom, — my  poor  wife  was  asleep  ;  she  liad 
been  watching  for  three  nights  and  days,  and  had  fallen  asleep  from 
sheer  fatigue  :  and  I  ran  out  to  a  ])awid>rokcr's  with  tlie  diamontl,  and 
received  seven  guineas  for  it,  anil  coming  back,  put  tlie  money  into 
the  landlady's  hand,  and  told  her  to  get  what  was  needful.  My  wife 
was  still  asleep  wlien  I  came  back ;  and  when  she  woke,  we  per- 
suaded her  to  go  downstairs  to  the  landlady's  parlour;  and  mean- 
while the  necessary  i)rei)aratious  were  made,  and  the  poor  child 
consigned  to  its.  coffin. 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     105 

The  next  day,  after  all  was  over,  Mrs.  Stokes  gave  me  l)ack  three 
out  of  the  seven  guineas ;  and  then  I  could  not  help  sobbing  out  to 
her  my  doubts  and  wretchedness,  telling  her  that  this  was  the  last 
money  I  had ;  and  when  that  was  gone  I  knew  not  what  was  to 
become  of  the  best  Avife  that  ever  a  man  was  blest  witli. 

My  wife  was  downstairs  -with,  the  woman.  Poor  Gus,  who  was 
Vt'ith  me,  and  quite  as  much  affected  as  any  of  the  party,  took  me  by 
the  arm,  and  led  me  downstairs ;  and  we  quite  forgot  all  about  the 
prison  and  the  rules,  and  walked  a  long  long  way  across  Blackfriars 
Bridge,  the  kind  fellow  striving  as  mxich  as  possible  to  console  me. 

When  we  came  back,  it  was  in  the  evening.  The  first  jierson 
v>-ho  met  me  in  the  house  was  my  kind  mother,  who  fell  into  my 
arms  with  many  tears,  and  who  rebuked  me  tenderly  for  not  having 
told  her  of  my  necessities.  She  never  should  have  known  of  them, 
she  said  ;  but  she  had  not  heard  from  me  since  I  Avrote  announcing 
the  birth  of  the  child,  and  she  felt  uneasy  about  my  silence  ;  and 
meeting  Mr.  Smithers  in  the  street,  asked  from  him  news  concerning 
me  :  whereupon  that  gentleman,  with  some  little  show  of  alarm,  told 
her  that  he  thought  her  daughter-in-law  was  confined  in  an  uncomfort- 
able place ;  that  Mrs.  Hoggarty  had  left  us ;  finally,  that  I  was  in 
prison.  This  news  at  once  despatched  my  poor  mother  on  her  travels, 
and  she  had  only  just  come  from  the  prison,  where  she  learned  my 
address. 

I  asked  her  whether  she  had  seen  my  Avife,  and  how  she  found 
her.  Rather  to  my  amaze  she  saiil  that  Mary  was  out  with  the 
landlady  when  she  arrived  ;  and  eight — nine  o'clock  came,  and  she 
was  absent  still. 

At  ten  o'clock  returned — not  my  wife,  Imt  ]\Irs.  Stokes,  and  with 
her  a  gentleman,  who  shook  hands  with  me  on  coming  into  the  room, 
and  said,  "  Mr.  Titmrrsh,  I  don't  know  wliether  you  will  remember 
me :  my  name  is  Tiptofi".  I  liave  In-ought  you  a  note  from  Mrs. 
Titmarsh,  and  a  message  from  my  wife,  who  sincerely  commiserates 
your  loss,  and  begs  you  will  not  be  uneasy  at  Mrs.  Titniarsh's 
absence.  She  has  been  good  enough  to  promise  to  pass  the  night 
with  Lady  Tiptoff;  and  I  am  sure  you  will  not  object  to  her  being 
away  from  you,  while  she  is  giving  happiness  to  a  sick  mother  and  a 
sick  child."  After  a  few  more  Avords,  my  Lord  left  us.  My  wife's 
note  only  said  that  Mrs.  Stokes  Avould  tell  me  all. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

IN  WHICH  IT  IS  SHOiyyi  THAT  A  GOOD   WIFE  IS   THE  BEST 
DIAMOND  A  MAN  CAN   WEAR  /.V  HIS  BOSOM 


M 


RS.  TITMARSH,  ma'am,"  says  Mrs.  Stokes,  "before  I 
gratify  your  curiosity,  ma'am,  permit  me  to  observe  that 
angels  is  scarce ;  and  it's  rare  to  liavc  one,  much  more  two, 
in  a  family.  Both  your  sou  and  your  daughter-in-law,  ma'am,  are 
of  that  uncommon  sort ;  they  are,  now,  rcely,  ma'am." 

My  mother  said  she  tlianked  God  for  both  of  us  ;  and  Mrs. 
Stokes  proceeded  : — 

"  When  the  fu when  the  seminary,  ma'am,  was  concluded 

this  morning,  your  poor  daughter-in-law  was  glad  to  take  snelter  in 
my  humble  parlour,  ma'am;  where  she  wept,  and  told  a  thousand 
stories  of  the  little  cherub  that's  gone.  Heaven  bless  us  I  it  was 
here  but  a  month,  and  no  one  could  have  thought  it  cou/d  have 
done  such  a  many  things  in  that  time.  But  a  mother's  eyes  are 
clear,  mi'am  ;  and  I  had  just  such  another  angel,  my  dear  little 
Antony,  that  was  born  before  Jemima,  and  would  have  been  twenty- 
three  now  were  he  in  this  wicked  world,  ma'am.  However,  I  won't 
speak  of  him,  ma'am,  but  of  what  took  place. 

"  You  must  know,  ma'am,  that  Mrs.  Titmai-sh  remained  down- 
stairs while  Mr.  Samuel  w'as  talking  with  his  friend  Mr.  Hoskins ; 
and  the  poor  thing  would  not  touch  a  bit  of  dinner,  tliough  we  had 
it  matle  comfortable  ;  and  after  <linner,  it  was  with  difficulty  I  a)uld 
get  her  to  sup  a  little  drop  of  wine-and-watcr,  and  dip  a  toast  in  it. 
It  was  the  first  morsel  that  had  passed  her  lips  for  many  a  long 
hour,  ma'am. 

"'  Well,  she  would  not  speak,  and  I  thought  it  best  not  to  inter- 
rupt her ;  Init  she  sat  and  looked  at  my  two  youngest  that  were 
jilaying  on  the  rug;  and  just  as  Mr.  Titmarsh  and  his  friend  Gus  went 
out,  the  boy  brought  the  newspaper,  ma'am, — it  always  comes  from 
three  to  four,  and  I  began  a-reading  of  it.  But  I  couldn't  read  nuicli, 
for  thinking  of  jioor  Mr.  Sam's  sad  face  as  he  went  out,  and  tlie 
sad  story  he  told  me  about  his  money  being  so  low ;  and  every  now 
and  then  I  stopped  reading,  and  bade  Mrs.  T.  not  to  take  on  so; 
and  told  her  some  stories  about  my  dear  little  Antony. 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     107 

"  '  All  ! '  says  she,  sobbing,  and  looking  at  the  young  ones,  '  yon 
have  otlier  children,  Mrs.  Stokes ;  but  that — that  was  my  only 
one;'  and  she  flung  back  in  her  chair,  and  cried  fit  to  break  her 
heart :  and  I  knew  that  the  cry  would  do  her  good,  and  so  went 
back  to  my  paper — the  Morning  Post,  ma'am ;  I  always  read  it, 
for  I  like  to  know  what's  a-going  on  in  the  West  End. 

"  The  very  first  thing  that  my  eyes  lighted  upon  was  this  : — 
'  Wanted,  immediately,  a  respectable  person  as  wet-nurse.  Apply 
at  No.  —  Grosvenor  Square.'  '  Bless  us  and  save  us  ! '  says  I, 
'  here's  poor  Lady  Tiptoff  ill ; '  for  I  knew  her  Ladyship's  address, 
and  how  she  was  confined  on  the  very  same  day  with  Mrs.  T.  : 
and,  for  the  matter  of  that,  her  Ladyship  knows  my  address,  havin;; 
visited  here, 

"A  sudden  thought  came  over  me.  'My  dear  Mrs.  Titmarsh,' 
said  I,  '  you  know  how  poor  and  how  good  your  husband  is  ? ' 

"  '  Yes,'  says  she,  rather  surprised. 

"'Well,  my  dear,'  says  I,  looking  her  hard  in  the  face.  'Lady 
Tiptoff",  who  knows  him,  wants  a  nurse  for  her  st)n,  Lord  Poynings. 
Will  you  be  a  brave  woman,  and  look  f  »r  the  place,  and  mayhap 
replace  the  little  one  that  God  has  taken  from  you  ? ' 

"  She  began  to  tremble  and  blush  ;  and  then  I  told  her  what 
you,  Mr.  Sam,  had  told  me  the  other  day  about  your  money 
matters ;  and  no  sooner  did  she  hear  it  than  she  sprung  to  her 
bonnet,  and  said,  '  Come,  come  ; '  and  in  five  minutes  she  had  me 
by  the  arm,  and  we  walked  together  to  Grosvenor  Square.  The 
air  did  her  no  harm,  Mr.  Sam,  and  during  the  whole  of  the  walk 
she  never  cried  but  once,  and  then  it  was  at  seeing  a  nursery-maid 
in  the  Square. 

"  A  great  fellow  in  livery  ojiens  the  door,  and  says,  '  YoTi're  the 
forty-fifth  as  come  aljout  this  'ere  ])lace  ;  but,  fust,  let  me  ask  you 
a  preliminary  question .     Are  you  a  Hirishwuman  ? ' 

"    No,  sir,'  says  Mrs.  T. 

"  '  That  suffisimt,  mem,'  says  the  gentleman  in  plusli ;  '  I  see 
you're  not  by  your  axnt.  Step  this  way,  ladies,  if  you  please. 
You'll  find  some  more  candidix  for  the  place  upstairs ;  but  I  sent 
away  forty-four  happlicants,  because  they  ivas  Hirish.' 

"We  v,-ere  taken  upstairs  over  very  soft  carpets,  and  brought 
into  a  room,  and  told  by  an  old  lady  who  was  there  to  speak  very 
softly,  for  my  Lady  was  only  two  rooms  pft\  And  when  I  asked 
how  the  baby  and  her  Ladyship  were,  the  old  lady  told  me  both 
were  pretty  well :  only  the  doctor  said  Lady  Tiptoff  was  too  delicate 
to  nurse  any  longer :  and  so  it  was  considered  necessary  to  have  a 
wet-nurse. 

"There  was  another  young  woman  in   the  room — a   tall   fine 


ro8     THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

woman  as  ever  you  saw- — that  looked  very  angry  and  conterapshious 
at  Mrs.  T.  and  me,  and  said,  *  I've  brought  a  letter  from  the  duchess 
Avhose  daughter  I  nust ;  and  I  think,  Mrs,  Blenkinsop,  mem,  my 
Lady  Tiptoff  may  look  far  before  she  finds  such  another  nuss  as  me. 
Five  feet  six  higli,  had  t!ic  smallpox,  married  to  a  corporal  in  the 
Lifeguards,  perfectly  healthy,  best  of  charactiers,  only  drink  -water ; 
and  as  for  the  child,  ma'am,  if  her  Ladyship  had  six,  I've  a  plenty 
for  them  all.' 

"  As  the  woman  was  making  this  speech,  a  little  gentleman  in 
black  came  in  from  the  next  room,  treading  as  if  on  velvet.  The 
■woman  got  up,  and  made  him  a  low  curtsey,  and  folding  her  arms 
on  her  great  broad  chest,  repeated  the  speech  she  had  made  before. 
Mrs.  T.  did  not  get  up  from  her  chair,  but  only  made  a  sort  of  a 
bow ;  wliich,  to  be  sure,  I  thought  was  ill  manners,  as  this  gentle- 
man wa3  evidently  the  apothecary.  He  looked  hard  at  her  and  said, 
*  Well,  my  good  woman,  and  are  you  come  about  the  place  too  1 ' 

"  '  Yesj  sir,'  says  she,  blushing. 

" '  You  seem  very  delicate.  How  old  is  your  child  1  Hov/ 
many  have  you  had  ?     What  character  have  you  ?' 

"  Your  wife  didn't  answer  a  word  ;•  so  I  stepped  up,  and  said, 
'  Sir,'  says  I,  *  tliis  lady  has  just  lost  her  first  child,  and  isn't  used 
to  look  for  places,  being  the  daughter  of  a  captain  in  the  navy ;  so 
you'll  excuse  her  want  of  manners  in  not  getting  up  when  you 
came  in.' 

"  The  doctor  at  this  sat  down  and  began  talking  very  kindly  to 
her;  he  said  he  was  afraid  that  her  application  would  be  unsuc- 
cessful, as  Mrs.  Homer  came  very  strongly  recommended  from  the 
Duchess  of  Doncastcr,  whose  relative  Lady  Tiptoff  was;  and  pre- 
sently my  Lady  appeared,  looking  very  i)retty,  ma'am,  in  an  elegant 
lace-cap  and  a  sweet  muslin  robe-fle-sha m. 

"  A  nui-se  came  out  of  her  Ladyship's  room  with  her;  and  while 
my  Lady  was  talking  to  us,  walked  r.p  and  down  in  the  next  room 
with  something  in  her  arms. 

"  Fii-st,  my  Lady  spoke  to  Mrs.  Horner,  and  then  to  Mrs.  T. ; 
but  all  the  while  she  was  talking,  Mrs.  Titinarsh,  rather  rudely,  as 
I  tliought,  ma'am,  was  looking  into  tlie  next  room  :  looking — looking 
at  the  baby  tlicre  with  all  her  might.  My  Lady  asked  her  her 
name,  and  if  she  had  any  character ;  and  as  she  did  not  speak,  I 
spoke  up  for  her,  and  said  she  wao  the  wife  of  one  of  the  best 
men  in  the  world  ;  tliat  her  Ladyship  knew  the  gentleman,  too, 
and  had  brought  him  a  haunch  of  venison.  Then  Lady  Tiptoff 
looked  ui)  quite  astonislied,  and  I  told  the  whole  story :  how  you 
had  been  head  clerk,  and  that  rascal,  Brough,  had  brought  you  to 
ruin.      'Poor  thing  ! '  said  my  Lady  :  j\Ir3.  Titmarsh  did  not'  speak, 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     109 

but  still  kept  looking  at  the  baby ;  and  the  great  big  grenadier  of  a 
Mrs.  Horner  looked  angrily  at  her. 

"'Poor  thing!'  says  my  Lady,  taking  Mrs.  T.'s  hand  very 
kind,  '  she  seems  very  young.     How  old  are  you,  my  dear  1 ' 

"  *  Five  weeks  and  two  days  ! '  says  your  wife,  sobbing. 

"  Mrs.  Horner  burst  into  a  laugh  ;  1  :)ut  there  was  a  tear  in  my 
Lady's  eyes,  for  she  knew  wliat  the  poor  thing  was  a-thinkiug  of. 

" '  Silence,  woman  ! '  says  she  angrily  to  the  great  grenadier 
woman ;  and  at  this  moment  the  child  in  the  next  room  began 
crying. 

"As  soon  as  your  wife  heard  the  noise,  she  sprung  from  her 
chair  and  made  a  step  forward,  and  put  Iwth  her  hands  to  her 
breast  and  said,  '  The  child — tlie  child — give  it  me  ! '  and  tlien 
began  to  cry  again. 

"  My  Lady  looked  at  her  for  a  moment,  and  then  ran  into  the 
next  room  and  brought  her  the  baby ;  and  the  baby  clung  to  her  as 
if  he  knew  her  :  and  a  pretty  sight  it  was  to  see  that  dear  woman 
with  the  child  at  her  bosom. 

"  When  my  Lady  saw  it,  what  do  you  think  she  did  1  After 
looking  on  it  for  a  bit,  she  put  her  arms  round  your  wife's  neck  and 
kissed  her. 

"'My  dear,'  said  she,  'I  am  sure  you  are  as  good  as  you  are 
pretty,  and  you  shall  keep  the  child  :  and  I  thank  God  for  sending 
you  to  me  ! ' 

"  These  were  her  very  words  ;  and  Dr.  Bland,  who  was  standing 
by,  says,  '  It's  a  second  judgment  of  Solomon  ! ' 

"  '  I  supi'.ose,  my  Lady,  you  don't  want  ?ne  ? '  says  the  big 
woman,  with  another  curtsey. 

"  '  Not  in  the  least  ! '  answers  my  Lady  haughtily,  and  the 
grenadier  left  the  room  :  and  then  I  told  all  your  story  at  full  length, 
and  Mrs.  Blenkinsop  kept  me  to  tea,  and  I  saw  the  beautiful  rouin 
that  Mrs.  Titmarsh  is  to  have  next  to  Lady  Tiptoff's ;  and  when 
my  Lord  came  home,  what  does  he  do  but  insist  upon  coming  back 
with  me  here  in  a  hackney-coach,  as  he  said  he  nuist  apologise 
to  you  for  keeping  your  wife  away." 

I  could  not  help,  in  my  own  mind,  connecting  this  strange  event 
which,  in  the  midst  of  our  sorrow,  came  to  console  us,  and  in  our 
poverty  to  give  us  bread, — I  could  not  help  connecting  it  with  the 
diamond-jnn,  and  fancying  that  the  disappearance  of  that  ornament 
had  somehow  brought  a  different  and  a  better  sort  of  luck  into  my 
family.  And  though  some  gents  who  read  this,  may  call  me  a  poor- 
spirited  fellow  for  allowing  my  wife  to  go  out  to  service,  who  was 
bred  a  lady  and  ought  to  have  servants  herself:  yet,  for  my  part,  I 
confess  I  did  not  feel  one  minute's  scruple  or  mortification  on  the 
10 


no     THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

subject.  If  you  love  a  person,  is  it  not  a  pleasure  to  feel  obliged  to 
him  1  Anil  this,  in  consequence,  I  felt.  I  was  proud  and  happy  at 
being  able  to  think  that  my  dear  wife  should  be  able  to  labour  and 
earn  bread  for  me,  now  misfortune  had  put  it  out  of  my  power  to 
support  me  and  her.  And  now,  instead  of  making  any  reflections 
of  my  own  upon  prison  discipline,  I  will  recommend  the  reader  to 
consult  that  admirable  chapter  in  the  Life  of  Mr.  Pickwick  in  which 
the  same  theme  is  handled,  and  which  shows  how  silly  it  is  to 
deprive  honest  men  of  the  means  of  labour  just  at  the  moment  when 
they  most  want  it.  What  coukl  I  do  ]  There  were  one  or  two 
gents  in  the  prison  who  could  work  (literary  gents, — one  wrote 
his  "Travels  in  Mesopotamia,"  and  the  other  his  "Sketches  at 
Almack's,"  in  the  ]ilace) ;  but  all  the  occupation  I  could  find  was 
walking  down  Briilj;e  Street,  and  then  uj)  Bridge  Street,  and  staring 
at  Alderman  Waithman's  windows,  and  then  at  the  black  man  who 
swept  the  crossing.  I  never  gave  him  anything  ;  but  I  envied  him 
his  trade  and  his  broom,  and  the  money  that  contiiuially  fell  into 
Ills  old  hat.     But  I  was  not  allowed  even  to  carry  a  broom. 

Twice  or  thrice — for  Lady  Tiptoff  did  not  wish  her  little  boy 
often  to  breathe  the  air  of  such  a  close  place  as  Salisbury  Square — 
my  dear  Mary  came  in  the  thundering  carriage  to  see  me.  They 
were  merry  meetings;  and — if  the  truth  must  be  told — t%vice.  when 
nobody  was  by,  I  jumped  into  the  carriage  and  had  a  drive  with 
her ;  and  when  I  had  seen  her  home,  jumj)ed  into  another  hackney- 
coach  and  drove  back.  But  this  Wius  only  twice  ;  for  the  system  was 
dangerous,  and  it  might  bring  me  into  trouble,  and  it  cost  three 
shillings  from  Grosvenor  S pxare  to  Ludgate  Hill. 

Here  moanwliile,  my  good  mother  kept  me  company ;  and 
what  should  we  read  of  one  day  but  the  marriage  of  Mrs.  Hoggarty 
and  the  Rev.  Grimes  Wapsluit !  My  mother,  who  never  loved  Mrs. 
H.,  now  said  tliat  she  should  repent  all  her  life  having  allowed  mc 
to  spend  so  much  of  my  time  with  that  odious  ungniti'ful  woman ; 
and  added  that  she  and  I  too  were  justly  punished  for  worshipping 
the  mammon  of  unrighteousness  and  forgetting  our  natural  feelings 
for  the  sake  of  my  aunt's  paltry  lucre.  "  Well,  Amen  !  "  said  I. 
"  This  is  the  end  of  all  our  fine  schemes  !  My  aunt's  money  and 
my  aunt's  diamond  were  the  causes  of  my  ruin,  and  now  they  are 
clear  gone,  thank  Heaven  !  and  I  hope  the  old  lady  will  be  hai)py ; 
xnd  I  must  say  I  don't  envy  the  Rev.  Grimes  y>'ai)shot."  So  we 
put  Mrs.  Hoggarty  out  of  our  thoughts,  and  made  ourselves  as 
comfortable  a.s  miglit  be. 

Rich  and  great  people  are  slower  in  making  Cliristians  of  their 
rhildren  than  we  ])Oor  ones,  and  little  Lord  Pnynings  was  not 
christened  until  the  month  of  June.     A  duke  was  one  godfathcn 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     iti 

and  My.  Ednuiud  Preston,  tlie  State  Secretary,  another ;  and  tliat 
kind  Lady  Jane  Preston,  whom  I  have  before  sj^oken  of,  was  the 
godmotlier  to  her  nephew.  She  had  not  long  been  made  acquainted 
witli  my  wife's  liistory ;  and  both  she  and  lier  sister  Lived  her 
heartily  and  were  very  kind  to  her.  Indeed,  there  was  not  a 
single  soul  in  the  house,  high  or  low,  but  was  fond  of  tliat  good 
sweet  creature ;  and  the  verj^  footmen  were  as  ready  to  serve  her 
as  they  were  their  own  mistress. 

"  I  tell  you  what,  sir,"  says  one  of  them.  "  You  see,  Tit,  my 
boy,  I'm  a  connyshure,  and  up  to  snough ;  and  if  ever  I  see  a 
lady  in  my  life,  ]\Irs.  Titmarsh  is  one.  I  can't  be  fimiliar  with 
her — I've  tried " 

"Have  you,  sir?"  said  I. 

''  Don't  look  so  indignant !  I  can't,  I  say,  lie  fimiliar  with 
her  as  I  am  with  you.  There's  a  somethink  in  her,  a  jennysquaw, 
that  haws  me,  sir  !  and  even  my  Lord's  own  man,  that  'as  'ad  as 
much  success  as  any  gentleman  in  Eiuope — he  says  that,  cuss 
him " 

"  Mr.  Charles,"  says  I,  "  tell  my  Lord's  own  man  that,  if  he 
wants  to  keep  his  place  and  his  whole  skin,  he  will  never  address 
a  single  word  to  that  lady  but  such  as  a  servant  should  utter  in 
the  presence  of  his  mistress  ;  and  take  notice  that  I  am  a  gentle- 
man, though  a  poor  one,  and  will  murder  the  first  man  who  does 
her  wrong ! " 

Mr.  Charles  only  said  "  Gammin  ! "  to  this  :  but  psha !  in 
bragging  about  my  own  spirit,  I  forgot  to  say  what  great  good- 
fortune  my  dear  wife's  conduct  procured  for  me. 

On  the  christening-day,  Mr.  Preston  offered  her  first  a  five, 
ai'-l  then  a  twenty-pound  note  ;  liut  she  declined  either ;  but  she 
did  not  decline  a  present  that  the  two  ladies  made  her  together, 
and  this  was  no  other  than  iny  release  from  the  Fleet.  Lord 
Tiptoff's  lavryer  paid  every  one  of  the  bills  against  me,  and  that 
happy  christening-day  made  me  a  free  man.  Ah  !  who  shall  tell 
the  pleasure  of  that  day,  or  the  merry  dinner  we  had  in  Mary's 
room  at  Lord  Tiptoff's  house,  when  my  Lord  and  my  Lady  came 
upstairs  to  shake  hands  with  me  ! 

"I  have  been  speaking  to  Mr.  Prsston,"  says  my  Lord,  "the 
gentleman  with  whom  you  had  the  memorable  quarrel,  and  he  has 
forgiven  it,  although  he  was  in  the  wrong,  and  i)romises  to  do 
something  for  you.  We  are  going  down,  meanwliile,  to  his  house 
at  Richmond ;  and  be  sure,  Mr.  Titmarsh,  I  will  not  fail  1. 1  keep 
you  in  his  mind." 

"  .Urs.  Titmarsh  will  do  that,"  says  my  Lady ;  "  for  Edmund 
is  woefully  smitten  with  her ! "     And  Mary  blushed,  and  I  laughed, 


112     THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

and  we  were  all  very  happy :  and  sure  enough  there  came  from 
Richmond  a  letter  to  me,  stating  that  I  was  appointed  fourth  clerk 
in  tlie  Tape  and  Sealing-wax  Office,  with  a  salary  of  £80  per 
annum. 

Here  perhaps  my  story  ought  to  stop ;  for  I  was  happy  at  last, 
and  have  never  since,  thank  Heaven  !  known  want :  but  Gus 
insists  that  I  should  add  liow  I  gave  up  the  place  in  the  Tape  and 
Sealing-wax  Office,  and  for  what  reason.     That  excellent  Lady  Jane 

Preston  is  long  gone,  and  so  is  ISh.  P off  in  an  apoplexy,  and 

there  is  no  harm  now  in  telling  the  story. 

Tlie  fact  was,  that  I\Ir.  Preston  had  follen  in  love  with  ^Mary 
in  a  nuich  more  serious  way  than  any  of  us  imagined ;  for  I  do 
Ijclicve  he  invited  his  l)rot]ier-in-law  to  Richnmnd  for  no  other 
I)uri)ose  than  to  jiay  court  to  liis  son's  nurse.  And  one  day,  as  I 
wi\.s  coming  i)ost-liaste  to  thank  him  for  the  place  he  had  jtrocured 
for  me,  being  directed  by  Mr.  Charles  to  the  "scrulibery,"  as  he 
called  it,  which  led  down  to  the  river — there,  sure  enough,  I  found 
Mr.  Pn-ston,  on  his  knees  too,  on  the  gravel-walk,  and  before  him 
Mary,  holding  the  little  lord. 

"Dearest  creature!"'  says  Mr.  Preston,  "do  but  listi'U  to  me, 
and  III  make  your  husband  consul  at  Timbuctoo  !  He  shall  never 
know  of  it,  I  tell  you  :  he  can  never  know  of  it.  I  pledge  you 
my  word  :us  a  Cabinet  I\Iinister !  Oh,  don't  look  at  me  in  that  arch 
way  :  by  heavens,  your  eyes  kill  me  !  " 

Mary,  when  she  saw  me,  burst  out  laughing,  and  ran  down 
the  lawn  ;  my  Lord  making  a  huge  crowing,  too,  and  holding  out 
liis  little  fat  hands.  Mr.  Pre.ston,  who  was  a  heavy  man,  was 
slowly  getting  uj),  when,  catching  r.  sight  of  me  looking  as  fierce 
as  the  crater  of  Mount  Etna,  — he  gave  a  start  back  and  lost  his 
footing,  and  rolled  over  and  over,  wallojiing  inti»  the  water  at  the 
garden's  edge.  It  was  not  deep,  and  he  came  bubbling  and  snorting 
out  again  in  as  nnich  fright  as  fury. 

"  You  d — d  ungrateful  villain  ! "  says  he,  "  what  do  you  stand 
there  laughing  for  [ "' 

"I'm  waiting  your  ordcr-^  for  Timiiuctoo,  sir,"  says  I,  and 
humlied  lit  to  die  ;  and  so  did  my  Lonl  Tiptoff  and  his  party,  who 
joined  uv.  on  the  lawn  :  and  Jeamcs  the  footman  came  forward  and 
helped  Mr.  Preston  out  of  tiie  water. 

'•  Oil,  you  old  sinner  I  "  says  my  Lord,  a.s  his  lirother-in-law  came 
up  the  slope.  "Will  that  heart  of  yours  be  always  so  susceptible, 
you  romantic,  apojdectic,  immoral  man  I  " 

Mr.  Preston  went  away,  looking  Itlue  with  rage,  and  ill-treated 
his  wife  for  a  whole  month  afterwards. 

"  At  any  rate,"  says  my  Lonl,  "  Titmarsh  here  has  got  a  place 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     113 

through  our  friend's  unhappy  attachment ;  and  Mrs.  Titniarsh  has 
only  laughed  at  him,  so  there  is  no  harm  there.  It's  an  ill  wind 
that  blows  nobody  good,  you  know." 

"  Such  a  wind  as  that,  my  Lord,  with  due  respect  to  you,  shall 
never  do  good  to  me.  I  have  learned  in  the  past  few  years  what 
it  is  to  make  fi-iends  with  the  mammon  of  unrighteousness ;  and 
that  out  of  such  iricndshij)  no  good  comes  in  the  end  to  honest 
men.  It  shall  never  be  said  that  Sam  Titmarsh  got  a  place  because 
a  gi'eat  man  was  in  love  with  his  wife ;  and  were  the  situation  ten 
times  as  valuable,  I  should  blush  every  day  I  entered  the  office- 
doors  in  thinking  of  the  base  means  by  which  my  fortune  was  made. 
You  have  made  me  free,  my  Lord ;  and,  thank  God  !  I  am  willing 
to  work.  I  can  easily  get  a  clerkshij)  with  the  assistance  of  my 
friends ;  and  with  that  and  my  wife's  income,  we  can  manage 
honestly  to  face  the  world." 

This  rather  long  speecli  I  made  with  some  animation  ;  for,  look 
you,  I  was  not  over  well  j)lcase(l  that  his  Lordship  should  think  me 
capalile  of  speculating  in  any  way  on  my  wife's  lieauty. 

My  Lord  at  first  turned  red,  and  looked  rather  angry ;  but  at 
last  he  held  out  his  hand  and  said,  "You  are  right,  Titmarsh,  and 
I  am  wrong ;  and  let  me  tell  you  in  confidence,  that  I  think  yuu 
are  a  very  honest  fellow.  You  shan't  lose  by  your  honesty,  I 
promise  you." 

Nor  did  I :  for  I  am  at  this  present  moment  Lord  Tiptoff  s 
steward  and  right-hand  man  :  and  am  I  not  a  hajtpy  father  ?  and 
is  not  my  wife  loved  and  resjiected  by  all  the  country  1  and  is  not 
Gus  Hoskins  my  broth.er-in-law,  partner  with  his  excellent  fother 
in  the  leather  way,  and  the  delight  of  all  his  nephews  and  nieces 
for  his  tricks  and  fun  1 

As  for  Mr.  Brough,  that  gentleman's  history  would  fill  a  volume 
of  itself  Since  he  vanished  irom  the  London  world,  he  has  become 
celebrated  on  the  Continent,  where  he  has  acted  a  thousand  parts, 
and  met  all  sorts  of  changes  of  high  and  low  f  )rtune.  One  thing 
we  may  at  least  admire  in  the  man,  and  that  is,  his  undaunted 
courage;  and  I  can't  help  thinking,  as  I  have  said  before,  that 
there  must  be  some  good  in  him,  seeing  the  way  in  which  his  family 
are  faithful  to  him.  With  respect  to  Roundhand,  I  had  best  also 
speak  tenderly.  The  case  of  Roundhand  v.  Tidd  is  still  in  the 
memory  of  the  public ;  nor  can  I  ever  understand  how  Bill  Tidd,  so 
poetic  as  he  was,  could  ever  take  on  with  such  a  fat,  odious,  vulgar 
woman  as  ]\Irs.  R.,  who  was  old  enough  to  be  his  mother. 

As  soon  as  we  were  in  prosperity,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Grimes  Wapshot 
made  overtures  to  be  reconciled  to  us  ;  and  Mr.  Wapsiiot  lakl  bare 
to  me  all  the  baseness  of  Mr.  Sir.ithers's  conduct  in  the  Brough 


1T4     THE    HISTORY    OF    SAMUEL    TITMARSH 

transaction.     Smitliers  had  also  endeavoured  to  pay  his  court  to 
me,  once  when  I  went  down  to  Somersetshire ;  but  I  cut  liis  i)re- 
tensions  short,  as  I  have  shown.      "  He  it  was,"  said  Mr.  Wapsliot, 
"  who  induced  Mrs.  Grimes  (j\Irs.  Hoggarty  she  was  then)  to  pur- 
chase the  "West  Dichllesex  shares  :  receiving,  of  course,  a  large  boiuis 
for  himself.     But  directly  he  found  that  ]\Irs.  Hoggarty  had  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  Mr.  Brough,  and  that  he  should  lose  the  income 
he  made  from  the  lawsuits  with  her  tenants  and  from  the  manage- 
ment of  her  landed  ])roperty,  he  deteruiined  to  rescue  her  fmm  that 
villain   BroUL^h,   and   came   to   town   fur  the   purpose.      He   also," 
added  Mr.  Wapsliot,  "vented  his  malignant  slander  against  me; 
but  Heaven  was  pleased  to  fmstrate  his  base  schemes.     In  the  ])ro- 
ceedings  consequent  on  Brough's  bankruptcy,  Mr.  Smitliers  coidd 
not  appear ;  for  liis  own  share  in  the  transactions  of  the  ComiKiny 
would-  have  been  most  certainly  shown  up.     During  his  absence 
from  London,  I  became  the  husband— the  happy  husband— of  your 
aunt.      But  though,  my  dear  sir,  I  have  l)een  the  means  of  bringing 
her  to  grace,  I  cannot  disguise  from  you  that  Mrs.  "W.  has  fixidts 
which  all  my  i)a.storal  care  has  not  enabled  me  to  eradicate.     She 
is  close  of  her  money,  sir — very  dose;  nor  can  I  make  that  charitable 
use  of  her  i)roperty  which,  as  a  clergyman,  I  ought  to  do  ;  for  she 
has  tied  up  every  shilling  of  it,  and  only  allows  me  half-a-crown  a 
week  for  pocket-money.     In  temjier,  too,  she  is  ver>-  violent.     During 
the  first  years  of  our  union,  I  strove  with  her  ;  yea,  I  chastised  her  ; 
but  her  persfverance,  I  must  confess,  got  the  Iwtt^^r  of  me.     I  make 
no  more  remonstrances,  but  am  as  a  lamb  in  her  hands,  and  she 
leads  me  whithci-soever  she  ]>lea.>*es." 

i\Ir.  Wapshot  concluded  his  tale  by  l)orrowing  lialf-a-crown  from 
me  (it  was  at  the  Somerset  Coffee-house  in  the  Strand,  where  he 
came,  in  the  year  1832,  to  wait  upon  me),  and  I  kiw  him  go  from 
thence  into  tlie  gin-shop  oi)posite,  and  come  out  of  the  gin-shop 
half-an-hour  ;irt.r\v.ir(ls,  rrolinL'  acrops  the  streets,  ami  ].erfectly 
intoxicated. 

He  died  ne.\t  year :  when  his  widow,  who  called  herself  Mrs. 
Hoggarty-(}rimes-Wai)shot,  of  Castle  Hoggarty,  said  that  over  the 
giiive  t>f  her  .s;unt  all  earthly  resentments  were  forgotten,  and  jiro- 
posed  to  come  and  live  with  us ;  paying  us,  of  course,  a  handsome 
remuneration.  But  this  offer  my  wife  and  I  respectfully  declined  ; 
and  once  more  she  altered  her  will,  which  once  more  she  had  made 
in  our  favour ;  called  us  ungrateful  wretches  and  i)ani^ered  menials, 
an<l  left  all  her  pn^perty  to  the  Irish  Hoggarties.  But  seeing  my 
wife  one  day  in  a  earriaLre  with  Lady  Tiptoff,  and  hearing  that  we 
had  been  at  the  gieat  ball  at  Tiptotf  Castle,  and  that  I  had  grown 
to  be  ti  rich  man,  she  changed  her  mind  again,  sent  for  me  on  ner 


AND    THE    GREAT    HOGGARTY    DIAMOND     115 

dcath-bed,  and  left  me  the  farms  of  Sloppertou  and  Squaslitail,  ^\  ith 
all  her  savings  for  fifteen  years.  Peace  be  to  her  soul !  for  certainly 
she  left  me  a  very  pretty  property. 

Though  I  am  no  literary  man  myself,  my  cousin  Michael  (w!io 
generally,  when  he  is  short  of  coin,  comes  down  and  passes  a  few 
months  with  us)  says  that  my  Memoirs  may  be  of  some  use  to  the 
l)ublic  (meaning,  I  suspect,  to  himself) ;  and  if  so,  I  am  glad  to 
serve  him  and  them,  and  hereby  take  farewell  :  bidding  all  gents 
who  peruse  this,  to  l)e  cautious  of  their  money,  if  tlicy  liave  it ;  to 
be  still  more  cautious  of  their  friends'  money ;  to  remember  that 
great  profits  imply  great  risks ;  and  that  the  great  shrewd  capitalists 
of  this  country  would  not  be  content  with  four  per  cent,  for  their 
money,  if  they  could  securely  get  more  :  above  all,  I  entreat  them 
never  to  embark  in  any  speculation,  of  which  the  conduct  is  not 
perfectly  clear  to  them,  and  of  which  tlie  agents  are  n(jt  jx'rfectly 
oj)en  and  loyal 


THE    TREMENDOUS    ADVENTURES 


OF 


MAJOR    GAHAGAN 


THE    TREMENDOUS    ADVENTURES 


OF 


MAJOR    GAHAGAN 

CHAPTER  I 

"TRUTH  IS  STRANGE,   STRANGER   THAN  FICTION" 

1   THINK  it  but  right  that  in  making  my  appearance  before  the 
public  I  should  at  once  acquaint  them  with  my  titles  and  name. 
My  card,  as  I  leave  it  at  the  houses  of  the  nol>ility,  my  friends, 
is  as  follows  : — 


MAJOR  GOLIAH  O'GEADY  GAHAGAN,  H.E.I.O.S., 
Commanding  Battalion  of 

Irrerjular  Horse, 

AHMEDNUGGAR. 


Seeing,  I  say,  this  simple  visiting  ticket,  the  world  will  avoid  any 
of  those  awkward  mistakes  as  to  my  person,  which  have  been  so 
frequent  of  late.  There  has  been  no  end  to  the  blunders  regarding 
this  humble  title  of  mine,  and  the  confusion  thereby  created.  When 
I  published  my  volume  of  poems,  for  instance,  the  Morning  Fast 
newspaper  reniarked  "that  the  Lyrics  of  the  Heart,  by  Miss 
Gahagau,  may  be  ranked  among  the  sweetest  flowrets  of  the  present 
spring  season."  The  Quarterly  Revieio,  commenting  ujion  my 
"Observations  on  the  Pons  Asinorum  "  (-ito,  London,  1836),  called 
me  "  Doctor  Gahagan,"  and  so  on.  It  was  time  to  put  an  end  to 
these  mistakes,  and  I  have  taken  the  above  simple  remedy. 


I20   THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES  OF 

I  was  urged  to  it  V)y  a  very  exalted  personage.  Dining  in 
August  last  at  the  palace  of  the  T — 1-r-es  at  Paris,  the  lovely 
young  Duch-ss  of  Orl — ns  (who,  though  she  does  not  speak 
English,  understands  it  as  M-ell  as  I  do),  said  to  me  in  the  softest 
Teutonic.  "  Lieber  Herr  Major,  haben  sie  den  Ahmednuggarischen- 
jager-battalion  gelassen?"  "Warum  denn?"  said  I,  quite  aston- 
ished at  her  R — 1  H ss's  question.     The  P — cess   then  spoke 

of  some  trifle  from  my  pen,  which  was  simply  signed  Golii.a 
Gahagan. 

There  was,  unluckily,  a  dead  silence  as  TT.IMT.  ]iiit  this 
question. 

"  Comment  dond"  said  H.M.  Lo-is  Ph-l-ppe,  looking  gravely 
at  Count  Mol^ ;  "  le  cher  Major  a  quitt^  I'armde  !     Nicolas  done 

sera  maitre  de  I'lnde  !"    H.  M and  the  Pr.  M-n-ster  pursued 

tlieir  conversation  in  a  low  tone,  and  left  me,  as  may  be  imagined, 
in  a  dreadful  state  of  confusion.  I  blushed  arid  stuttered,  and 
murmured  out  a  fevv'  incoherent  words  to  explain — but  it  would  not 
do — I  could  not  recover  my  equanimity  during  the  course  of  the 
dinner ;  and  while  endeavouring  to  help  an  English  Duke,  my 
neighbour,  to  poulet  a  V Ansterlitz,  foirly  sent  seven  nuislirooms 
and  three  large  greasy  croiites  over  his  whiskers  and  shirt-frill. 
Another  laugh  at  my  expense.      "  Ah  !  M.   Ic  Major,"  said  the 

Q of  the  B-lg — ns  archly,  "  vous  n'aurez  jamais  votre  brevet 

de  Colonel."     Her  M y's  joke  will  be  better  understood  when 

I  state  that  his  Grace  is  the  brother  of  a  Minister. 

I  am  not  at  literty  to  violate  the  sanctity  of  private  life,  by 
mentioning  the  names  of  the  parties  concerned  in  this  little  anecdote. 
I  only  wish  to  have  it  understood  that  I  am  a  gentleman,  and  live 
at  least  in  decent  society.      Verhum  sat.^ 

But  to  be  serious.  I  am  obliged  always  to  write  the  name  of 
Goliah  in  full,  to  distmguish  me  from  my  brother,  Gregory  Gahagan, 
who  Wcis  also  a  Major  (in  the  King's  service),  and  whom  I  killed 
in  a  duel,  as  the  public  most  likely  knows.  Poor  Greg !  a.  very 
trivial  dispute  was  the  cause  of  our  quarrel,  which  never  would 
have  originated  but  for  the  similarity  of  our  names.  Tlie  circum- 
stance was  tliis :  I  had  been  lucky  enough  to  render  the  Nawaub  of 
Lucknow  some  trifling  sei-vice  (in  the  notorious  aflair  of  Choprasjee 
Muckjee),  and  his  Highness  sent  down  a  gold  toothpick-case  directed 
to  Captain  G,  Gahagan,  which  I  of  course  thought  was  for  me :  my 
brother  madly  claimed  it ;  we  fought,  and  the  conseijuence  was,  that 
in  about  three  minutes  he  received  a  slash  in  the  right  side  (cut  6), 
which  eff'ectually  did  his  business :— he  was  a  good  swordsman 
enough — I  was  the  best  in  the  universe.  The  most  ridiculous 
part  of  the  affair  is,  that  the  toothpick-case  was  his.  after  all — he 


MAJOR   GAHAGAN 


121 


had  left  it  on  the  Nawaub's  table  at  tiiliu.  I  can't  conceive  what 
madness  prompted  him  to  fight  ahout  such  a  paltry  l)anhle;  he  had 
much  better  have  yielded  it  at  once,  wlien  he  saw  I  was  dctennined 
to  have  it.  From  tliis  sliglit  specimen  of  my  adventures,  tlie  reader 
will  perceive  that  my  life  has  been  one  of  no  ordinary  interest;  and,  in 
fact,  I  may  say  that  I  have  led  a  more  rem;irkable  life  than  any  man 
in  the  service — I  have  been  at  more  i)itche(l  battles,  led  more  forloni 
hopes,  had  more  success  among  the  fair  sex,  drunk  harder,  read  more, 
been  a  handsomer  man  than  any  officer  now  serving  Her  Majesty. 

When  I  first  went  to  India  in  1802,  I  was  a  raw  cornet  of 
seventeen,  with  blazing  red  hair,  six  feet  four  in  heiglit,  athletic  at 
all  kinds  of  exercises,  owing  money  to  my  tailor  and  everybody  else 
who  would  trust  me,  possessing  an  Irish  brogue,  and  my  full  pay 
of  £120  a  year.  I  need  not  say  that  Avith  all  these  advantages  I 
did  that  which  a  number  of  clever  fellows  have  done  before  me — I 
fell  in  love,  and  proposed  to  marry  immediately. 

But  how  to  overcome  the  difficulty  1 — It  is  true  tliat  I  luved 
Julia  Jowler — loved  her  to  madness ;  but  lier  father  intended  lier 
for  a  Member  of  Council  at  least,  and  not  for  a  beggarly  Irisli 
ensign.  It  was,  however,  my  fate  to  make  the  passage  to  India 
(on  board  of  the  Samuel  Snob  East  Indiaman,  Captain  Dut^'y)  with 
this  lovely  creature,  and  my  misfortune  instantaneously  to  I'all  in 
love  with  her.  We  were  not  out  of  the  Channel  before  I  adored 
her,  wors]iii)ped  the  deck  which  slie  tn^d  upi:)n,  kiss(>d  a  thousand 
times  the  cuddy-chair  on  which  she  used  to  sit.  Tlie  same  madness 
fell  on  every  man  in  the  ship.  The  two  mates  fought  a])out  her  at 
the  Cape ;  the  surgeon,  a  sober  pious  Scotchman,  from  (lisaj)pointed 
aft'ection,  took  so  dreadfully  to  drinking  as  to  threaten  s})ontaneous 
combustion ;  and  old  Colonel  Lilywliite,  carrying  his  wife  and  seven 
daugliters  to  Bengal,  swore  that  he  would  have  a  divorce  from  Mrs. 
L.,  and  made  an  attempt  at  suicide ;  the  captain  himself  told  me, 
with  tears  in  his  eyes,  that  he  hated  his  hitherto  adored  Mrs.  Duti'y, 
altliough  he  had  had  nineteen  children  by  her. 

We  used  to  call  her  the  witch — there  was  magic  in  her  beauty 
and  in  her  voice.  I  was  spell-bound  when  I  looked  at  her,  and 
stark  staring  mad  when  she  looked  at  me  !  0  lustrous  black  eyes  ! 
— O  glossy  night-black  ringlets  ! — 0  lips  ! — 0  dainty  frocks  of  Avliite 
muslin  ! — 0  tiny  kid  shippers  ! — though  old  and  gouty,  Gahagan  sees 
you  still !  I  recollect,  off  Ascension,  she  looked  at  me  in  her  i)arti- 
cular  way  one  day  at  dinner,  just  as  i  happened  to  be  blowing  on 
a  piece  of  scalding  hot  green  fat.  I  Avas  stuiieficd  at  once — I  thrust 
the  entire  morsel  (about  half  a  pound)  into  my  mouth.  I  made  no 
attempt  to  sAvallow,  or  to  jiiasticate  it,  but  left  it  there  for  many 
minutes,  burning,  burning !     I  had  no  skin  to  my  italate  for  sever 

L 


122      THE    TRE:\rENDOUS    ADVENTURES    OF 

weeks  after,  and  lived  on  rice  water  during  the  rest  of  the  voyage. 
The  anecdote  is  trivial,  but  it  shows  the  power  of  Julia  Jowler 
over  me. 

The  writers  of  marine  novels  have  so  exhausted  the  subject  of 
storms,  shipwrecks,  mutinies,  engagements,  sea-sickness,  and  so 
forth,  that  (although  I  have  experienced  each  of  these  in  many 
varieties)  I  think  it  quite  unnecessary  to  recount  such  tritiing 
adventures;  suffice  it  to  say,  that  during  our  five  montlis'  trajet, 
my  mad  passion  for  Julia  daily  increased ;  so  did  the  captain's  and 
the  surgeon's ;  so  did  Colonel  Lilywhite's ;  so  did  the  doctor's,  tlie 
mate's — that  of  most  jiart  of  the  ]ia.sscngers,  and  a  consideralile 
number  of  the  crew.  For  myself,  I  swore — ensign  as  I  was — I 
would  win  her  for  niy  wife ;  I  vowed  that  I  would  make  her 
glorious  with  my  sword — that  as  soon  as  I  had  made  a  favourable 
impression  on  my  commanding  officer  (wliich  I  did  not  doubt  to 
create),  I  would  lay  open  to  him  the  state  of  my  affections,  and 
demand  his  daughter's  hand.  With  such  sentimental  outpourings 
did  our  voyage  continue  and  conclude. 

We  landed  at  the  Sunderbunds  on  a  grilling  hot  day  in  December 
1802,  and  then  for  the  moment  Julia  and  I  separated.  Slie  was 
carried  off  to  her  pai>a's  arms  in  a  jjalankeen,  siu-roundod  liy  at 
least  forty  hookahbadars ;  whilst  tlio  p(>i.>r  cornet,  attendctl  but  by 
two  dandies  and  a  solitary  beasty  (by  which  unnatural  name  these 
blackamoors  are  called),  made  his  way  humbly  to  join  the  regiment 
at  headquarters. 

The  — th  Regiment  of  Bengal  Cavalry,  then  under  the  command 
of  Lieut.-Colonel  Julius  Jowler,  C.B.,  wius  known  throughout  Asia 
and  Europe  by  the  jiroud  title  of  the  Bundelcund  Invincibles — so 
groat  w;us  its  character  for  bravery,  so  remarkalile  were  its  services 
in  that  delightful  district  of  India.  Major  Sir  George  Gutch  was 
next  in  command,  and  Tom  Thrupj),  as  kind  a  fellow  as  ever  ran  a 
Mahratta  througli  tiie  body,  was  second  Major.  We  were  on  the 
eve  of  that  remarkable  war  which  was  si)eedily  to  spread  throughout 
the  whole  of  India,  to  call  forth  the  valour  of  a  Wellesley,  and  the 
indomitable  gallantry  of  a  Gahagan ;  which  was  illustratod  by  our 
victories  at  Ahmcdnuggar  (where  I  was  the  first  over  the  barricade 
at  the  storming  of  the  Pettah) ;  at  Argaum,  where  I  slew  with  my 
own  sword  twenty-tlu-ee  matcldock-men,  and  cut  a  dromedary  in 
two ;  and  by  tliat  terrible  day  of  Assaye,  where  Wellesley  would 
have  been  beaten  l)ut  for  me-»-me  alone  :  I  headed  nineteen  charges 
of  cavalry,  took  (aided  by  only  four  men  of  my  own  troop)  seventeen 
field-pieces,  killing  the  scoiuidrelly  French  artilleiymen ;  on  that 
day  I  had  eleven  elephants  shot  under  me,  and  carried  away  Scindiah's 
nose-ring  vnth  a  pistol-ball.     Wellesley  is  a  Duke  and  a  ^larshal, 


MAJOR   GAHAGAN  123 

I  but  a  simple  Major  of  Irregulars.  Such  is  fortune  and  war  !  But 
my  feelings  carry  me  away  from  my  narrative,  which  h^d  better 
proceed  with  more  order. 

On  arriving,  I  say,  at  our  barracks  at  Dum  Dum,  I  fur  the  first 
time  put  on  the  beautiful  uniform  of  the  Invincibles :  a  liglit  blue 
swallow-tailed  jacket  with  silver  lace  and  wings,  ornamented  with 
about  3000  sugar-loaf  buttons,  rhubarb-coloured  leather  inexpressibles 
(tights),  and  red  morocco  boots  with  silver  spurs  and  tassels,  set  off 
to  admiration  the  handsome  persons  of  the  officers  of  our  corps. 
We  wore  powder  in  those  days ;  and  a  regulation  pigtail  of  seventeen 
inclies,  a  Ijrass  helmet  surrounded  by  leopard  skin,  with  a  bearskin 
top  and  a  horsetail  feather,  gave  the  head  a  fierce  and  chivalrous 
appearance,  which  is  far  more  easily  imagined  than  described. 

Attired  in  this  magnificent  costume,  I  first  presented  myself 
before  C<:ilonel  Jowler.  He  was  haltitcd  in  a  manner  precisely 
similar,  but  not  being  more  than  five  feet  in  height,  and  weighing 
at  least  fifteen  stone,  the  dress  he  wore  did  not  become  him  quite 
so  much  as  slimmer  and  taller  men.  Flanked  by  his  tall  Majors, 
Thrupp  and  Gutch,  he  looked  like  a  stumpy  skittle-ball  between 
two  attenuated  skittles.  The  ])]ump  little  Colonel  received  me 
with  vast  cordiality,  and  I  speedily  became  a  prime  favourite  with 
himself  and  the  other  ofiicers  of  the  corps.  Jowler  was  tlie  most 
hospitable  of  men ;  and  gratifying  my  appetite  and  my  love  together, 
I  continually  jx'^rtook  of  his  dinners,  and  feasted  on  the  sweet 
presence  of  Julia. 

I  can  see  now,  what  I  would  not  and  could  not  jierceive  in 
those  early  days,  tliat  tliis  Miss  Jowler — on  whom  I  had  lavished 
my  first  and  warmest  love,  whoni  I  had  endowed  with  all  perfection 
and  purity — was  no  better  than  a  little  impudent  flirt,  Avho  played 
witli  my  feelings,  because  during  tlie  monotony  of  a  sea  voyage  she 
had  no  otlier  toy  to  play  with;  and  who  deserted  others  for  me, 
and  me  for  others,  just  as  her  wliim  or  her  interest  might  guide 
her.  She  had  not  been  three  weeks  at  headquarters  when  half  the 
regiment  was  in  love  "with  her.  Each  and  all  of  the  candidates  had 
some  favour  to  boast  of,  or  some  encouraging  hopes  on  whicli  to 
build.  It  was  tlie  scene  of  the  Samuel  Snob  over  again,  only 
heightened  in  interest  by  a  number  of  duels.  The  following  list 
will  give  the  reader  a  notion  of  some  of  them  : — 


o' 


1.  Cornet  Gahagan .     .     Ensign    Hicks,   of    the    Sappers    and 

Miners.  Hicks  received  a  ball  in 
his  jaw,  and  was  half  choked  by  a 
quantity  of  carroty  whisker  forced 
down  his  throat  with  the  ball. 


124   THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES  OF 

2.  Captain  Macgillicuddy,     Cornet     Gahagan.        I     was     run 

.  B.N.I.  through  the  body,  but  the  sword 

passed  between  the  ribs,  and  in- 
jured me  very  slightly. 

3.  Captain  Macgillicuddy,     Mr.  Mulligatawny,  B.C.S.,  Deputy- 

B.N.I.  Assistant  Vice  Sub-Controller  of 

the  Boggley  wollah  Indigo  grounds, 
Ramgolly  branch. 

Macgillicuddy  should  have  stuck  to  sword's  play,  and  he  might 
have  come  off  in  his  second  duel  as  well  as  in  his  first ;  as  it  was, 
the  civilian  placed  a  ball  and  a  part  of  Mac's  gold  repeater  in  his 
stomach.  A  remarkable  circumstance  attended  this  shot,  an  account 
of  which  I  sent  home  to  the  "  Philosophical  Transactions "  :  the 
surgeon  had  extracted  the  ball,  and  was  going  otf,  thinking  that  all 
was  Avell,  when  the  gold  repeater  struck  thirteen  in  poor  Macgilli- 
cuddy's  abdomen.  I  suppose  that  the  works  must  have  been 
disarranged  in  some  Avay  by  the  bidlct,  for  the  repeater  was  one 
of  Barraud's,  never  known  to  fail  before,  and  the  circumstance 
occurred  at  seven  o'clock.* 

I  could  continue,  almost  ad  injinitum,  an  account  of  the  wars 
which  this  Helen  occasioned,  but  the  above  three  specimens  will,  I 
should  think,  satisfy  the  peaceful  reader.  I  delight  not  in  scenes 
of  blood.  Heaven  knows,  but  I  was  compelled  in  the  course  of  a 
few  weeks,  and  for  the  sake  of  this  one  woman,  to  fight  nine  duels 
myself,  and  I  know  that  four  times  as  many  more  took  place 
concerning  her. 

I  forgot  to  say  that  Jowler's  wife  was  a  half-caste  woman,  who 
had  been  born  and  bred  entirely  in  India,  and  whom  the  Colonel 
had  married  from  the  house  of  her  mother,  a  native.  There  were 
some  singular  rumours  abroad  regarding  this  latter  lady's  history : 
it  was  reported  that  she  was  the  daughter  of  a  native  Rajah,  and 
had  been  carried  off"  by  a  poor  English  subaltern  in  Lord  Clive's 
time.  The  young  man  was  killed  very  soon  after,  and  left  his 
child  with  its  mother.  The  black  Prince  forgave  his  daughter  and 
bequeathed  to  her  a  handsome  sum  of  money.  I  sup])ose  that  it 
was  on  this  account  that  Jowler  married  Mrs.  J.,  a  creature  who 

'  So  admirable  are  the  performances  of  these  watches,  which  will  stand  in 
any  climate,  that  I  repeatedly  heard  poor  ilacgillicuddy  relate  the  following 
fact.  The  hours,  as  it  is  known,  count  in  Italy  from  one  to  twenty-four  :  the 
day  Mac  landed  at  Naples  his  repeater  run'/  the  Italian  hours,  from  one  to 
ticentv-fonr ;  as  soon  as  he  crossed  the  Alps  it  only  sounded  as  usuaL— ' 
G.  O'G.  G. 


MAJOR    GAHAGAN  125 

had  nut,  I  do  believe,  a  Christian  name,  or  a  single  Christian  quality : 
she  was  a  hideous,  bloated,  yellow  creature,  with  a  beard,  black 
teeth,  and  red  eyes :  she  Avas  fat,  lying,  ngly,  and  stingy — she 
hated  and  was  hated  by  all  the  world,  and  by  her  jolly  husband 
as  devoutly  as  by  any  other.  She  did  not  ])ass  a  month  in  the 
year  with  him,  but  spent  most  of  her  time  with  her  native  friends. 
I  wonder  how  she  could  have  given  birth  to  so  lovely  a  creature 
as  her  daughter.  This  Avoman  was  of  course  with  the  Colonel 
when  Julia  arrived,  and  the  spice  of  the  devil  in  her  daughter's 
composition  was  most  carefully  nourished  and  fed  by  her.  If  Julia 
had  been  a  flirt  before,  she  was  a  downright  jilt  now ;  she  set  the 
whole  cantonment  by  the  cars  ;  she  made  wives  jealous  and  husbands 
miserable ;  she  caused  all  those  duels  of  which  I  have  discoursed 
already,  and  yet  such  was  the  fliscination  of  the  wt:tcii  that  I  still 
thought  her  an  angel.  I  made  court  to  the  nasty  mother  in  order 
to  be  near  the  daughter;  and  I  listened  untiringly  to  Jowler's 
interminable  dull  stories,  because  I  was  occupied  all  the  time  in 
watching  the  graceful  movements  of  Miss  Julia, 

But  the  trumiiet  of  war  was  soon  ringing  in  our  cars ;  and  on 
the  battle-field  Gahagan  is  a  man  !  The  Bundelcund  Invincibles 
received  orders  to  march,  and  Jowler,  Hector-like,  donned  his  helmet 
and  i^repared  to  part  from  his  Andromache.  And  now  arose  his 
perplexity  :  what  must  be  done  with  his  daughter,  his  Julia  ?  He 
knew  his  wife's  peculiarities  of  living,  and  did  not  much  care  to 
trust  his  daughter  to  her  keeping ;  but  in  vain  he  tried  to  find  her 
an  asylum  among  the  respectable  ladies  of  his  regiment.  Lady 
Guteh  offered  to  receive  her,  but  would  have  nothing  to  do  with 
Mrs.  Jowler ;  the  surgeon's  wife,  Mrs.  Sawbone,  would  have  neither 
mother  nor  daughter :  there  was  no  help  for  it,  Julia  and  her 
mother  must  have  a  house  together,  and  Jowler  knew  that  his  wife 
would  fill  it  with  her  odious  blackamoor  friends. 

I  cindd  not,  however,  go  forth  satisfied  to  the  campaign  until 
I  learned  from  Julia  my  fate.  I  watched  twenty  opjjortunities  to 
see  her  alone,  and  wandered  about  the  Colonel's  bungalow  as  an 
inr>rmcr  does  about  a  public-house,  marking  the  incomings  and  the 
outgoings  of  the  family,  and  longing  to  seize  the  moment  when  Miss 
Jowler,  unbiassed  by  her  mother  or  her  papa,  might  listen,  perhaps, 
to  ray  eloquence,  and  melt  at  the  tale  of  my  love. 

But  it  would  not  do — old  Jowler  seemed  to  have  taken  ail  of 
a  sudden  to  such  a  fit  of  domesticity,  that  there  was  no  finding  h'm 
out  of  doors,  and  his  rhubarb-coloured  wife  (I  believe  that  lier  skin 
gave  the  first  idea  of  our  regimental, breeches),  who  before  had  been 
gadding  ceaselessly  abroad,  and  poking  her  broad  nose  into  every 
menage  in  the  cantonment,  stopped   faithfully  at  home  with  her 

11 


126   THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES  OF 

spouse.     My  only  chance  was  to  beard  the  old  couple  in  their  den. 
and  ask  them  at  once  for  thcu*  cuh. 

So  I  called  one  day  at  tiffin : — old  Jowler  was  always  happy 
to  have  my  company  at  this  meal ;  it  amused  him,  he  said,  to  see 
me  drink  Hodgson's  pale  ale  (I  drank  two  hundred  and  thii-ty-four 
dozen  the  first  year  I  was  in  Bengal)— and  it  was  no  small  piece  of 
fun,  certainly,  to  sec  old  Mrs.  Jowler  attack  the  currie-Uiaut ;— she 
was  exactly  the  colour  of  it,  as  I  have  had  already  the  honour  to 
remark,  and  she  swallowed  the  mixture  witli  a  gusto  which  was 
never  equalled,  except  by  my  poor  friend  D;mdo  a propos  d'huUrcs. 
She  consumed  the  first  three  platefuLs  with  a  fork  and  sjioon,  like 
a  Christian ;  but  as  she  warmed  to  her  work,  the  old  hag  wouhl 
throw  away  her  silver  implements,  and  dragging  the  dishes  towanls 
her,  go  to  work  witli  her  hands.  Hip  the  rice  into  her  mouth  with 
her  fingers,  and  stow  away  a  quantity  of  eatiildes  sufiicient  for  a 
sepoy  company.  But  why  do  I  di\Trge  from  the  main  point  of 
my  story  ? 

Julia,  tlicn,  Jowler,  and  Mi's.  J.,  were  at  hmclu'on  ;  the  dear 
girl  was  in  tlie  act  to  sailer  a  ghiss  of  Hodgson  as  I  entered.  "  How 
do  you  do,  Mr.  Ga.gin?"  said  the  old  hag  leeringly.  "Eat  a  bit 
o'  currie-bhaut," — and  she  thrust  tlie  dish  towards  me,  securing  a 
heap  as  it  passed.  "  What  I  Gag>'  my  boy,  how  do,  how  do  ] " 
said  the  fat  Colonel.  "  Wliat !  run  tlirough  the  bo<ly  ? — got  well 
again — have  some  Hodgson — run  through  yt)ur  body  too  !  " — and  at 
this,  I  may  say,  coarse  joke  (alluding  to  the  fact  that  in  these  hot 
climates  tlie  ale  oozes  out  as  it  were  from  the  pores  of  the  skin) 
old  Jowler  laughed :  a  lio^it  of  swarthy  chobdars,  kitmatgars,  sices, 
consoniahs,  and  Ixibbychies  laughed  too,  as  they  provided  nie,  un- 
asked, with  the  grateful  fluid.  Swallowing  six  tumblers  of  it,  I 
paused  nervously  for  a  moment,  and  then  said — 

"  Bolibachy,  coiisomah,  ballybaloo  hoga." 

The  black  ruffians  took  tlie  hint,  and  retired. 

"Colonel  and  i\Irs.  Jowler,"  said  I  solemnly,  "we  arc  alone; 
and  you.  Miss  Jowler,  you  are  alone  too;  that  is — I  mean — I  .take 
this  opportunity  to — (another  glass  of  ale,  if  you  please) — to  ex- 
jiress,  once  for  all,  before  departing  on  a  dangerous  campaign '"' — 
(Julia  tiuned  pale) — "before  entering,  I  say,  upon  a  war  which  may 
stretch  in  the  dust  ray  high-raised  hopes  and  me,  to  express  my 
hopes  while  life  still  remains  to  me,  and  to  declare  in  the  face  of 
heaven,  earth,  and  Colonel  Jowler,  that  I  love  you,  Julia  ! "  The 
Colonel,  astonished,  let  fall  a  steel  fork,  which  stuck  quivering  for 
some  minutes  in  the  calf  of  my  leg ;  but  I  heeded  not  the  ]ialtry 
interru]ition.  "  Yes,  by  yon  liright  heaven,"  continued  I,  "  I  love 
you,  Julia !  I  respect  my  commander,  I  esteem  your  excellent  and 


MAJOR   GAHAGAN 


127 


beauteous  mother :  tell  me,  before  I  leave  you,  if  I  may  hope  for  a 
return  of  my  afteetion.  Say  that  you  love  me,  and  I  will  do  such 
deeds  in  this  coming  war,  as  sliall  make  you  jjroud  of  the  name  of 
your  Gahagan." 

The  old  woman,  ;;s  I  delivered  these  touching  words,  stared, 
snapped,  and  ground  her  teeth,  like  an  enraged  monkey.  Julia  was 
now  red,  now  white ;  the  Colonel  stretched  forward,  took  the  fork 
out  of  the  calf  of  my  leg,  wiped  it,  and  tlien  seized  a  bundle  of  letters 
which  I  had  remarked  by  his  side. 

"A  cornet!"  said  he,  in  a  voice  choking  with  emotion;  "a 
pitiful  beggarly  Irish  comet  aspire  to  the  hand  of  Julia  Jowler ! 
Gag — Gahagan,  are  you  mad,  or  laughing  at  US'?  Look  at  these 
letter;-^,  young  man — at  tliese  letters,  I  say  —  one  hundred  and 
twenty-four  epistles  from  every  part  of  India  (not  including  one  from 
the  Governor-General,  and  six  from  his  brother.  Colonel  Wellesley) 
— one  hundred  and  twenty-four  proposals  for  the  hand  of  Miss 
Jowler  !  Cornet  Gahagan,"  he  continued,  "  I  Avish  to  think  well  of 
you :  you  are  the  bravest,  tlie  most  modest,  and,  perhaps,  the 
handsomest  man  in  our  corps  ;  but  you  have  not  got  a  single  rupee. 
You  ask  mc  for  Julia,  and  you  do  not  possess  even  an  anna !  "— 
(Here  the  old  rogue  gi-inned,  a,s  if  he  had  made  a  capital  pun.) — 
"No,  no,"  said  he,  waxing  good-natured;  "  Gagy  my  boy,  it  is 
nonsense  !  Julia  love,  retire  with  your  mamma ;  this  silly  young 
gentleman  will  remain  and  smoke  a  pipe  with  me." 

I  took  one :  it  was  the  bitterest  chillum  I  ever  smoked  in  my 
life. 

I  am  not  going  to  give  here  an  account  of  my  military  services  ; 
they  will  appear  in  my  great  national  autobiography,  in  forty 
volumes,  which  I  am  now  preparing  for  the  press.  I  was  with  my 
regiment  in  all  Wehcsley's  brilliant  campaigns  ;  then  taking  dawk, 
I  travelled  across  the  country  north-eastward,  and  had  the  honour 
of  fighting  by  the  side  of  Lord  Lake  at  Laswaree,  Degg,  Furrucka- 
badj'^Futtyghur,  and  Bhurtpore  :  l)ut  I  will  not  boast  of  my  actions 
— the  military  man  knows  them,  my  sovereign  apprecintes  them. 
If  asked  who  was  the  bravest  man  of  the  Indian  army,  there  is  not 
an  officer  belonging  to  it  who  would  not  cry  at  once,  Gahagan. 
The  fiict  is,  I  was  desperate :  I  cared  not  for  life,  deprived  of  Julia 
Jowler. 

With  Julia's  stony  looks  ever  before  my  eyes,  her  father's  stern 
refusal  in  my  ears,  1  did  not  care,  at  the  close  of  the  campaign, 
again  to  seek  her  company  or  to  press  my  suit.  We  were  eighteen 
months  on  service,  marching  and  counter-marching,  and  fightuig 
almost  every  other  day  :  to  the  world  I  did  not  seem  altered  :  but 


128   THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES  OF 

the  TTorkl  only  saw  the  face,  and  not  the  seared  and  blighted  heart 
within  me.  My  valour,  always  desperate,  now  reached  to  a  pitch 
of  cruelty ;  I  tortured  my  grooms  and  grass-cutters  for  the  most 
trifling  oftence  or  error,  —  I  never  in  action  spared  a  man, — I 
sheared  off  three  hundred  and  nine  heads  in  the  course  of  that 
single  campaign. 

Some  influence,  equally  melanclioly,  seemed  to  have  fallen  upon 
poor  old  Jowler.  About  six  months  after  we  had  left  Dum  Dum, 
he  received  a  parcel  of  letters  from  Benares  (whither  his  wife  had 
retired  with  lier  daughter),  and  so  deeply  did  they  seem  to  weigh 
upon  his  spirits,  that  he  ordered  eleven  men  of  his  regiment  to  be 
flogged  within  two  days  j  but  it  was  against  the  blacks  that  he 
chiefly  tmiied  his  WTath,  Oiu-  fellows,  in  the  heat  and  hurry  of 
the  campaign,  were  in  the  habit  of  dealing  ratlier  roughly  with  their 
prisoners,  to  extract  treasure  from  them  :  they  used  to  pull  their 
nails  out  by  the  root,  to  boil  them  in  kedgeree  pots,  to  flog  them 
and  dress  their  wounds  with  cayenne  pepper,  and  so  on.  Jowler, 
when  he  heard  of  tliese  proceedings,  wliich  before  had  always  justly 
exasperated  him  (he  was  a  humane  and  kind  little  man),  used  now 

to  smile  fiercely  and  say,   "  D •  the  black  scoundrels !     Serve 

them  right,  serve  them  right !  " 

One  day,  about  a  couple  of  miles  in  advance  of  the  column,  I  had 
been  on  a  foraging-party  with  a  few  dragoons,  and  was  returning 
peaceably  to  camp,  when  of  a  sudden  a  troop  of  Mahrattas  burst  on 
us  from  a  neighbouring  mango-tope,  in  which  they  had  been  hidden  : 
in  an  instant  three  of  my  men's  saddles  were  empty,  and  I  was  left 
vrith  but  seven  more  to  make  head  against  at  least  thirty  of  these 
vagabond  black  horsemen.  I  never  saw  in  my  life  a  nobler  figure 
than  the  leader  of  the  troop — mounted  on  a  splendid  black  Arab ; 
he  was  as  tall,  very  nearly,  as  myself;  he  wore  a  steel  cap  and  a 
shirt  of  mail,  and  carried  a  beautiful  French  carbine,  which  had 
already  done  execution  upon  two  of  my  men.  I  saw  tliat  our  only 
chance  of  safety  lay  in  the  destruction  of  this  man.  I  shouted  to 
him  in  a  voice  of  thunder  (in  the  Hindustanee  tongue  of  course), 
"  Stoii,  dog,  if  you  dare,  and  encounter  a  man  !  " 

In  reply  his  lance  came  whirling  in  the  air  over  my  head,  and 
mortally  trausfijxed  poor  Foggarty  of  ours,  who  was  behind  me. 
Grinding  my  teeth  and  swearing  liorribly,  I  drew  that  scimitar  which 
never  yet  failed  its  blow,*  and  rushed  at  the  Indian.  He  came 
down  at  full  gallop,  his  own  sword  making  ten  thousand  gleaming 
circles  in  the  air,  shrieking  his  cry  of  battle. 

The  contest  did  not  last  an  instant.     With  my  first  blow  I  cut 

*  In  my  affair  with  Macgillicuddy,  I  was  fool  enough  to  go  out  with  small 
swords  : — miserable  weapons,  onl}-  fit  for  tailors. — G.  0"G.  G. 


MAJOR    GAHAGAN  129 

off  his  sword-arm  at  the  wrist ;  my  .second  I  levelled  at  his  head.  I 
said  that  he  wore  a  steel  cap,  with  a  gilt  iron  spike  of  six  inches,  and 
a  hood  of  chain  mail.  I  rose  in  my  stirnijjs  and  delivered  "  St. 
George ; "  my  sword  caught  the  sjiike  exactly  on  the  jiuint,  split  it 
sheer  in  two,  cut  crashing  through  the  steel  cap  and  hood,  and  was 
only  stopped  by  a  ruby  which  he  wore  in  his  l)ack-])late.  His  head, 
cut  clean  in  two  between  the  eyebrows  and  nostrils,  even  between 
the  two  front  teeth,  fell  one  side  on  each  shoulder,  and  he  galloped  on 
till  his  horse  was  stopped  by  my  men,  who  were  nut  a  little  amused 
at  the  feat. 

As  I  had  expected,  the  remaining  ruffians  fled  on  seeing  their 
leader's  fate.  I  took  home  liis  helmet  by  Avay  of  curiosity,  and  we 
made  a  single  prisoner,  who  was  instantly  carried  bef<jre  old  Jowler. 

We  asked  the  prisoner  tlie  name  of  the  leader  of  the  troop  :  he 
said  it  was  Chowder  Loll. 

"  Chowder  Loll !  "  shiieked  Colonel  Jowler.  "  0  Fate  !  thy  hand 
is  here  ! "  He  rushed  wildly  into  his  tent — the  next  day  apjjlied 
for  leave  of  absence.  Gutcli  took  the  command  of  the  regiment,  and 
I  saw  him  no  more  for  some  time. 


As  I  had  distinguished  myself  not  a  little  during  tlie  war,  General 
Lake  sent  me  up  Avith  desiKitches  to  Calcutta,  where  Lord  Wellesley 
received  me  with  the  greatest  distinction.  Fancy  my  surprise,  on 
going  to  a  ball  at  Government  House,  to  meet  my  old  friend  Jowler; 
my  trembling,  blushing,  thrilling  delight,  wlien  I  sav/  Julia  by  liis  side ! 

Jowler  seemed  to  l)lush  too  when  he  beheld  me.  I  thought  of 
my  former  passages  with  his  daugliter.  "  Gagy,  my  boy,''  says  he, 
siiaking  liands,  "glad  to  see  you.  Old  friend,  Jidia — come  to  tiffin 
— Hodgson's  pale — brave  fellow,  Gagy."  Julia  did  not  speak,  but 
she  turned  ashy  pale,  and  fixed  ujjou  me  her  awful  eyes  !  I  fainted 
almost,  and  uttered  some  incoherent  words.  Julia  took  my  Iiand, 
gazed  at  me  still,  and  said,  "  Come  !  "     Keetl  I  say  I  went  ? 

I  will  not  go  over  the  i)ale  ale  and  currie-bhaut  again  !  but  this 
I  know,  that  in  half-an-hour  I  was  as  much  in  love  as  I  ever  liad 
been  ;  and  that  in  three  weeks  I — yes,  I — was  the  accepted  lover  of 
Julia  !  I  did  not  pause  to  ask  where  were  the  one  hundred  and 
twenty-four  offers?  why  I,  refused  before,  should  be  acceijfed  now? 
I  only  felt  that  I  loved  her,  and  was  happy ! 

One  night,  one  memorable  night,  I  could  not  sleei),  and,  with  a 
lover's  pardonable  passion,  wandered  solitary  tlirough  the  City  of 
Palaces  until  I  came  to  the  house  whicli  contained  my  Julia.  I 
peeped  into  the  compound— all  was  still ;  I  looked  into  th(>  verandah 


130      THE    TREMENDOUS    ADVENTURES    OF 

— all  was  dark,  except  a  light — yes,  one  light — and  it  was  in  Julia's 
chamber  !  My  heart  throbbed  almost  to  stifling.  I  would — I  would 
advance,  if  but  to  gaze  upon  her  for  a  moment,  and  to  bless  her  as 
she  slept.  I  did  look,  I  did  advance ;  and,  0  Heaven  !  I  saw  a 
lamp  burning,  Mrs.  Jow,  in  a  nightdress,  with  a  very  dark  baby  in 
her  arms,  and  Julia  looking  tenderly  at  an  ayah,  who  was  niu-sing 
another. 

"Oh,  mamma,"  said  Julia,  "what  would  that  fool  Gahagan  say 
if  he  knew  all  1 " 

"  He  does  know  all  I  "  slioutcd  I,  springing  forward,  and  tearing 
down  the  tatties  from  the  window.  Mrs.  Jow.  ran  shrieking  out 
of  the  room,  Julia  fainted,  the  cursed  black  children  squalled,  and 
their  d — d  nurse  fell  on  her  knees,  gabbling  some  infernal  jargon 
of  Hindustanee.  Old  Jowler  at  this  juncture  entered  with  a  candle 
and  a  drawn  sword. 

"  Liar  !  scoundrel !  deceiver !  "  shouted  I.  "  Turn,  ruftian,  and 
defend  yourself  I  "  But  old  Jowler,  when  he  saw  me,  only  whistled, 
looked  at  his  lifeless  daughter,  and  slowly  left  the  room. 

Why  continue  the  tale?  I  need  not  now  account  for  Jowler's 
gloom  on  receiving  his  letters  from  Benares — for  his  exclamation 
upon  the  death  of  the  Indian  chief — for  his  desire  to  marry  his 
daughter :  the  woman  I  was  wooing  was  no  longer  Miss  Julia 
J(  'wler ;  she  was  i\Irs.  Chowder  Loll ! 


CHAPTER  II 

ALLYGHUR  JND  LASIVAREE 

I  SAT  down  to  write  gravely  and  sadly,  for  (since  the  appearance 
of  some  of  my  adventures  in  a  monthly  magazine)  unprincipled 
men  have  endeavoured  to  rob  me  of  the  only  good  I  jiosses^.s,  to 
question  the  statements  that  I  make,  and,  themselves  without  a 
spark  of  honour  or  good  feeling,  to  steal  from  me  that  which  is  my 
sole  wealth — my  character  as  a  teller  of  the  truth. 

The  reader  will  understand  that  it  is  to  the  illiberal  strictures 
of  a  profligate  press  I  now  allude  ;  among  tlie  London  journalists, 
none  (luckily  for  themselves)  have  dared  to  question  the  veracity  of 
my  statements  :  they  know  me,  and  they  know  that  I  am  in  London. 
If  I  can  use  the  pen,  I  can  also  wield  a  more  manly  and  terrible 
weapon,  and  would  answer  their  contradictions  with  my  sword  ! 
No  gold  or  gems  adorn  the  hilt  of  that  war-woni  scimitar;  ])ut 
there  is  blood  upon  the  blade — the  blood  of  the  enemies  of  my 
country,  and  the  maligners  of  my  honest  fame.  There  are  others, 
however; — the  disgrace  of  a  disgraceful  trade — who,  borrowing  from 
distance  a  despicable  courage,  have  ventured  to  assail  me.  The 
infamous  editors  of  the  Kelso  Champion,  the  Bungay  Beacon,  the 
Tipperary  Argus,  and  the  Stoke  Fofjis  Sentinel,  and  other  dastardly 
organs  of  the  provincial  press,  have,  although  differing  in  politics, 
agreed  upon  this  one  point,  and,  with  a  scoundrelly  uiianimity, 
vented  a  flood  of  abuse  iqion  the  revelations  made  by  me. 

They  say  that  I  have  assailed  private  characters,  and  wilfully 
perverted  history  to  blacken  the  reputation  of  public  men.  I  ask. 
Was  any  one  of  these  men  in  Bengal  in  the  year  1803  ?  Was  any 
single  conductor  of  any  one  of  these  paltry  prints  ever  in  Bundelcund 
or  the  Eohilla  country  ?  Does  this  exquisite  Tipperary  scril^c  knoAv 
the  difference  between  Hurrygurrybang  and  Burrumtollah  1  Not 
he  !  and  because,  forsooth,  in  those  strange  and  distant  lands  strange 
circumstances  have  taken  place,  it  is  insinuated  that  the  relater  is  a 
liar :  nay,  that  the  very  places  themselves  have  no  existence  but  in 
my  imagination.  Fools  ! — but  I  will  not  waste  my  anger  upon 
them,  and  proceed  to  recount  some  other  portions  of  my  persona) 
history. 


132   THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES  OF 

It  is,  I  presume,  a  fact  wliicli  even  these  scrilibling-  assassins 
will  not  venture  to  deny,  that  before  the  commencement  of  the 
campai.gn  against  Scindiah,  the  English  General  formed  a  camp  at 
Kanouge  on  the  Junma,  where  he  exercised  that  brilliant  little  army 
wMch  Avas  speedily  to  x>erform  such  wonders  in  the  Dooab.  It  will 
be  as  well  to  give  a  slight  account  of  the  causes  of  a  war  Avhich  was 
speedily  to  rage  through  some  of  the  fairest  portions  of  the  Indiau 
continent. 

Shah  Allum,  the  son  of  Shah  Lollum,  the  descendant  by  the 
female  line  of  Xailir  Shah  (that  ce]cl)nited  Toorkomaun  adventurer, 
who  had  well-nigh  hurled  Bajazet  and  Sehm  the  Second  from  the 
throne  of  Bagdad) — Shah  Alhmi,  I  say,  although  nominally  the 
Emperor  of  Delhi,  was  in  reality  the  slave  of  the  various  warlike 
chieftains  who  loi-dwl  it  by  turas  over  the  country  and  the  sovereign, 
until  cijiiruered  and  slain  by  some  more  sua-.es.sful  rebel.  Chowder 
Lo}I  Masolgee,  Zublx>rdust  Khan,  Dowsunt  Row  Sciudiah,  and  the 
celahrated  Bobbachy  Jung  Bahaw  der,  liad  held  for  a  time  complete 
i?.vistery  in  Delhi.  The  second  of  these,  a  ruthless  Afghan  soldier, 
had  abmi>tly  entered  the  capital ;  nor  was  he  ejected  from  it  until 
he  had  seized  upon  the  principal  jewels,  and  likewise  put  out  the 
eyes  of  the  last  of  the  unfortunate  fondly  of  Afrasiab.  Sciudiah 
came  to  the  rescue  of  the  sightless  Shah  Allum,  and  though  he 
destroyed  liis  oppressor,  only  increased  his  slavery ;  holding  him 
in  as  jminful  a  bondage  as  he  had  suffered  under  the  tyrannous 
Afghan. 

As  long  as  these  heroes  were  battling  among  themselves,  or  as 
long  rather  as  it  appeared  that  they  had  any  strength  to  fight  a 
battle,  the  British  Government,  ever  anxious  to  see  its  enemies  by 
the  cai-s,  by  no  m&ms  interfered  in  the  contest.  But  the  French 
Revolution  broke  out,  and  a  host  of  starving  sans-culottes  appeared 
among  the  vai'ious  Indian  States,  seeking  for  military  service,  and 
inflaming  the  minds  of  tlie  various  native  princes  against  the  British 
East  India  Company.  A  number  of  tlie.se  entered  into  Scindiah's 
ranks :  one  of  them.  Perron,  was  commander  of  his  army ;  and 
though  that  chief  was  as  yet  quite  eng-aged  in  his  hereditary  quarrel 
with  Jeswunt  Row  Holkar,  and  never  thought  of  an  inva.sion  of  the 
British  territory,  the  Compimy  all  of  a  sudden  discovered  that  Shah 
Allum,  his  sovereign,  was  shamefully  ill-used,  and  determined  tc» 
re-c.stai>lish  the  ancient  splendour  of  his  throne. 

Of  coui-se  it  was  sheer  bene\'olence  for  i)oor  Shah  Allum  that 
]i"om]ited  our  governors  to  take  these  kindly  measures  in  his  favour. 
I  don't  know  how  it  happened  that,  at  the  end  of  the  war,  the  poor 
Shah  was  not  a  whit  better  off  than  at  the  lie.dnning  ;  and  that 
though  Holkar  was  beaten,  and  Sciudiah  annihilated,  Shah  Allum 


MAJOR    GAHACIAN  133 

was  VMich  such  a  ])ui)pet  as  before.  Somehow,  in  the  huiTy  and 
confusion  of  this  struggle,  the  oyster  remained  witli  the  British 
Governmeut,  who  had  so  kindly  oftered  to  dress  it  for  the  Emperor, 
while  his  Majesty  was  obliged  to  be  contented  with  the  .shell. 

The  force  encamped  at  Kanouge  bore  the  title  of  the  Grand 
Army  of  the  Ganges  and  the  J  urana ;  it  consisted  of  eleven  regi- 
ments of  cavalry  and  twelve  battalions  of  infantry,  and  was  com- 
manded 1  :»y  General  Lake  in  person. 

Well,  on  the  1st  of  September  we  stormed  PeiTon's  camp  at 
AUyghur ;  on  the  4th  we  took  that  fortress  by  assault ;  and  as  my 
name  was  mentioned  in  general  orders,  I  may  as  well  quote  the 
Commander-in-Chief's  words  regarding  )ue — they  will  spare  me  the 
trouble  of  composing  my  ovm  culogium  : — 

"  The  Cominander-in-Chief  is  proud  thus  publicly  to  declare 

his  high  sense  of  the  gallantry  of  Lieutenant  Gahagan,  of  the 

Cavalry.  In  the  storming  of  the  fortress,  although  unprovided 
witli  a  single  ladder,  and  accompanied  but  by  a  few  brave  men. 
Lieutenant  Gahagan  succeeded  in  cscalading  the  inner  and  fourteenth 
wall  of  the  place.  Fourteen  ditches  lined  with  sword-blades  and 
l)oisoned  chevaux-de-frise,  fourteen  waJls  bristling  with  innumerable 
artillery  and  as  smooth  as  looking-glasses,  were  in  turn  triumphantly 
passed  by  that  enterprising  officer.  His  course  Avas  to  be  traced 
by  the  heaps  of  slaughtei-cd  (niemies  lying  thick  upon  the  platforms  ; 
and  alas !  by  the  corpses  of  most  of  the  gallant  men  Avho  followed 
him  !  Wlien  at  length  he  effected  his  lodgment,  and  the  dastardly 
enemy,  who  dared  not  to  confront  him  with  arms,  let  loose  upon 
him  tlie  tigers  and  lions  of  Scindiah's  menagerie,  tliis  meritorious 
officer  destroyed,  with  his  own  hand,  four  of  the  largest  and  most 
ferocious  animals,  and  the  rest,  awed  by  the  indomitable  majesty  of 
Bkitish  valour,  shrank  back  to  their  dens.  Thomas  Higgory,  a 
private,  and  Runty  Goss,  havildar,  were  the  only  two  who  remained 
out  of  the  nine  hundred  who  fallowed  Lieutenant  Gahagan.  Honour 
to  them !  Hontnir  and  tears  for  the  brave  men  who  perished  on 
that  awful  day  !  " 

I  have  copied  this,  word  for  word,  from  the  Bengal  Hurkaru 
of  Scj.tember  24,  1803:  and  anybody  who  has  the  slightest  doubt 
as  to  the  sfcitement,  may  refer  to  tlie  pa])er  itself. 

And  here  I  nuist  pause  to  give  thanks  to  Fortune,  whith  so 
marvellously  preserved  me,  Sergeant-Major  Higgory,  and  Eunty 
Goss.  Were  I  to  say  that  any  valour  of  ours  had  carried  us  uiduu-t 
through  this  tremendous  combat,  the  reader  would  laugh  me  to 
scorn.     No  :  though  my  narrative  is  extraordinaiy,  it  is  nevertheless 


.34   THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES  OF 

authentic :  and  never  never  woulil  I  sacrifice  truth  for  the  mere 
sake  of  efiect.  The  fact  is  this  : — the  citadel  of  Allyghiu-  is  situated 
upon  a  rock,  about  a  tliousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea,  and  is 
surrounded  by  foiu'teen  walls,  as  his  Excellency  was  good  enough  to 
remark  in  his  despatch.  A  man  wlio  Avould  mount  these  without 
scaling-ladders  is  an  ass ;  he  who  would  sn?/  he  mounted  then; 
without  such  assistance,  is  a  liar  and  a  knave.  We  had  scaling- 
ladders  at  the  commencement  of  the  assault,  although  it  was  quite 
impossible  to  carry  them  beyond  the  first  line  of  batteries.  Mounted 
on  them,  however,  as  our  troops  were  falling  thick  about  me,  I  saw 
that  we  must  ignominiously  retreat,  unless  some  other  help  could  be 
found  for  our  brave  fellows  to  escalade  the  next  wall.  It  was  about 
seventy  feet  high.  I  instantly  tmuied  the  guns  of  wall  A  on  wall  B. 
and  peppered  the  latter  so  as  to  make,  not  a  breach,  but  a  scaling 
place ;  the  men  mounting  in  the  holes  made  by  the  shot.  By  this 
simple  stratagem,  I  managed  to  pass  each  successive  barrier — for  to 
ascend  a  wall  which  the  General  was  pleased  to  call  "  as  smooth  as 
glass  "  is  an  absurd  impossibility  :  I  seek  to  achieve  none  such  : — 

"  I  dare  do  all  that  may  become  a  man  ; 

Who  dares  do  more,  is  neither  more  uor  less." 

Of  course,  had  the  enemy's  guns  been  commonly  well  serveil,  not 
one  of  us  would  ever  have  been  alive  out  of  the  three  ;  but  whether 
it  was  owing  to  fright,  or  to  the  excessive  smoke  caused  by  so  many 
pieces  of  artillery,  arrive  we  ilid.  On  the  platforms,  too,  our  work 
was  not  quite  so  difficult  as  might  be  imagined — killing  those  fellows 
was  slieer  butchery.  As  soon  as  we  appeared,  they  all  turned  and 
fled  helter-skelter,  and  tlie  reader  may  judge  of  their  courage  by  the 
fact  that  out  of  al)0Ut  seven  hundred  men  killed  by  us,  only  forty 
had  wounds  in  front,  the  rest  being  bayoneted  as  they  ran. 

And  beyond  all  other  pieces  of  good  fortune  was  the  very  letting 
out  of  these  tigers  ;  which  was  the  dernier  ressort  of  Bournon\'ille, 
the  second  commandant  of  the  fort.  I  had  obsen'ed  this  man  (con- 
spicuous for  a  tricoloured  scarf  which  he  wore)  upon  every  one  of 
the  walls  as  we  stormed  them,  and  running  away  the  very  first 
among  the  fugitives.  He  liad  all  the  keys  of  the  gates  ;  and  in 
his  tremor,  as  he  opened  the  menagerie  portal,  left  the  whole  buncli 
in  the  door,  which  I  seized  when  the  animals  were  overcome.  Runty 
Goss  tlien  o])ened  tliem  one  by  one,  our  troops  entered,  and  the 
victorious  standard  of  ray  country  floated  on  the  walls  of  AUyglnir  ! 

When  the  General,  accompanied  by  his  stag",  entered  the  last 
line  of  fortifications,  the  brave  old  man  raised  me  from  tlie  dead 
rhinoceros  on  which  I  was  seated,  and  pressed  me  to  his  breast. 
But  the  excitement  which  had  borne  me  tlu-ough  the  fatigues  and 


MAJOR    GAHAGAN  135 

perils  of  that  fearful  day  failed  all  of  a  sudden,  and  I  wept  like  a 
child  upon  his  shoulder. 

Promotion,  in  our  army,  goes  unluckily  by  seniority ;  nor  is  it 
in  the  power  of  the  General-in-Chief  to  advance  a  Ceesar,  if  lie  finds 
him  in  the  capacity  of  a  subaltern  :  my  reward  for  the  above  ex]>loit 
was,  therefore,  not  very  rich.  His  Excellency  had  a  favourite  horn 
snuff-box  (for,  though  exalted  in  station,  he  was  in  his  habits  most 
simple)  :  of  this,  and  about  a  quarter  of  an  ounce  of  higli-dried 
Welsh,  which  he  always  took,  he  made  me  a  present,  saying,  in 
front  of  the  line,  "Accept  this,  Mr.  Gahagan,  as  a  token  of  respect 
from  the  first  to  the  bravest  ofticer  in  the  army." 

Calculating  the  snuff"  to  lie  Avorth  a  halfpenny,  I  should  say  that 
fourpence  was  about  the  value  of  this  gift :  but  it  has  at  least  this 
good  eff"ect — it  serves  to  convince  any  person  who  doubts  my  story, 
that  the  facts  of  it  are  really  true.  I  have  left  it  at  the  office  of 
my  ijublisher,  along  with  the  extract  from  the  Bengal  Ilnrhiru, 
and  anybody  may  examine  botli  l)y  applying  in  the  counting-house 
of  Mr.  Cunningham.*  That  once  popular  expression,  or  proverb, 
"Are  you  up  to  snuff"?"  arose  out  of  the  above  circumstance;  for 
the  officers  of  my  corps,  none  of  whom,  except  myself,  had  ventured 
on  the  storming  party,  used  to  twit  me  about  this  modest  reward 
for  my  labours.  Never  naind  !  when  they  want  me  to  storm  a  fort 
again,  I  shall  know  better. 

Well,  immediately  after  the  capture  of  this  important  fortress, 
Perron,  who  had  been  the  life  and  soul  of  Scindiah's  army,  came 
in  to  us,  with  his  family  and  treasure,  and  was  passed  over  to  the 
French  settlements  at  Chandernagur.  Bourquien  took  his  com- 
mand, and  against  him  we  now  moved.  The  morning  of  the  11th 
of  September  found  us  upon  the  plains  of  Delhi. 

It  was  a  burning  hot  day,  and  we  were  all  refreshing  ourselves 
after  the  morning's  march,  when  I,  who  M^as  on  the  advanced  picket 
along  with  O'Gawler,  of  the  King's  Dragoons,  was  made  aware 
of  the  enemy's  neighbourhood  in  a  very  singular  manner.  O'Gawler 
and  I  were  seated  under  a  little  canopy  of  horse-cloths,  which  we 
had  formed  to  shelter  us  from  the  intolerable  heat  of  the  sun, 
and  were  discussing  with  great  delight  a  few  Manilla  cheroots, 
and  a  stone  jar  of  the  most  exquisite,  cool,  weak,  refreshing  sangaree. 
We  had  been  playing  cards  the  night  before,  and  O'Gawler  had 
lost  to  me  seven  hundred  rupees.  I  emptied  the  last  of  the 
sangaree  into  the  two  pint  tumblers  out  of  which  we  were  drinking, 

*  The  Major  certainly  offered  to  leave  an  old  snuff-box  at  Mr.  Cunningham's 
office  ;  but  it  contained  no  extract  from  a  newspaper,  and  does  not  quite  prove 
that  he  killed  a  rhinoceros  and  stormed  fourteen  entrenchments  at  the  siege 
of  AUyghur. 


136      THE    TREMENDOUS    ADVENTURES    OF 

and  holding  mine  up,  said,  "Here's  better  luck  to  you  next  time, 
O'Gawler ! " 

As  I  spoke  the  words — whish  ! — a  cannon-ball  cut  the  tumbler 
clean  out  of  my  hand,  and  plumped  into  poor  O'Gawler's  stomach. 
It  settled  him  completely,  and  of  course  I  never  got  my  seven 
hundred  rupees.     Such  are  the  uncertainties  of  war  ! 

To  strap  on  my  sabre  and  my  accoutrements — to  mount  my 
Arab  charger— to  drink  off  what  O'Gawler  had  left  of  the  sangaree 
— and  to  gallop  to  the  General,  was  the  work  of  a  moment.  I 
found  him  as  comfortably  at  titfin  as  if  he  were  at  his  own  house 
in  London. 

"  General,"  said  I,  as  soon  as  I  got  into  his  paijamahs  (or  tent), 
"  you  must  leave  your  lunch  if  you  want  to  fight  the  enemy." 

"  The  enemy — pslia !  Mr.  Gahagan,  the  enemy  is  on  the  other 
side  of  the  river." 

"I  can  only  tell  your  Excellency  that-  the  enemy's  guns  will 
hardly  can-y  five  miles,  and  that  Cornet  O'Gawler  was  this  moment 
bliot  dead  at  my  side  with  a  cannon-ball." 

"  Ha  !  is  it  so  ? "  said  his  Excellency,  rising,  and  laying  down 
the  drumstick  of  a  grilled  chicken.  "Gentlemen,  remember  that 
the  eyes  of  Europe  are  upon  us,  and  follow  me  I  " 

Each  aide-de-{;amp  started  from  table  and  seized  his  cocked  hat ; 
each  British  heart  ]:>eat  high  at  the  thoughts  of  the  coming  melee. 
Wo  mounted  our  horses,  and  gallojied  swiftly  after  the  bravo  old 
General ;  I  not  tlio  last  in  tlie  train,  upon  my  famous  black  charger. 

It  was  perfectly  tnie,  the  enemy  were  jiosted  in  force  Avithin 
three  miles  of  our  camp,  and  from  a  hillock  in  the  advance  to  which 
we  galloped,  we  were  enabled  with  our  telescopes  to  sec  the  whole 
of  his  imposing  line.     Nothing  can  better  describe  it  than  this  : — 


— A  is  the  enemy,  aud  the  dots  represent  the  hundred  and  twenty 
pieces  of  artillery  which  defended  his  line.  He  was,  moreover, 
entrenched ;  and  a  wide  morass  in  his  front  gave  him  an  adrlitional 
security. 

His  Excellency  for  a  moment  surveyed  the  line,  and  then  said 
turning  round  to  one  of  his  aides-de-camp,  "Order  up  Major-General 
Tinkler  aud  the  cavalry." 

•*  Here,  does  your  Excellency  mean  1 "  said  the  aide-de-camp, 


MAJOR    GAHAGAN  137 

suriirised,  for  the  enemy  had  perceived  us,  and    the   cannon-balls 
were  flyin.t,'  about  as  thick  as  peas. 

"  Here,  sir  !  "  said  the  old  General,  stam])ing  Avitli  his  foot  in 
a  passion,  and  the  A.D.C.  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  galloped 
away.  In  five  minutes  Ave  heard  the  trumpets  in  our  camp,  and 
in  twenty  more  the  greater  port  of  the  cavalry  had  joined  us. 

Uj)  they  came,  five  thousand  men,  their  standards  flapping  in 
the  air,  their  long  line  of  ])olished  jack-boots  gleaming  in  the  golden 
sunlight.  "  And  now  we  are  here,"  said  Major-General  Sir  Theo- 
philus  Tinkler,  "  wliat  next  1 "  "  Oh,  d it,"  said  the  Commander- 
in-Chief,  "  charge,  charge — nothing  like  chai-ging — galloi)ing — guns 
— rascally  black  scoundrels — charge,  charge  !  "  And  then  turning 
round  to  me  (perhaps  he  was  glad  to  change  the  conversation), 
he  said,  "Lieutenant  Gahagan,  you  will  titay  with  me." 

And  well  for  him  I  did,  for  I  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  the 
battle  7ras  <iained  hy  me.  I  do  not  .niean  to  insult  the  reader  l)y 
pretending  that  any  personal  exertions  of  mine  turned  the  day, — 
that  I  killed,  for  instance,  a  regiment  of  cavalry  or  swallowed  a 
battery  of  guns, — such  absurd  tales  would  disgrace  both  the  hearer 
and  the  teller.  I,  as  is  well  known,  never  say  a  single  word  whicii 
cannot  be  proved,  and  hate  more  than  all  other  vices  the  absurd  sin 
of  egotism  :  I  simply  mean  that  my  advice  to  the  General,  at  a 
quarter-iiast  two  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  of  that  day,  won  this  great 
triumiih  for  the  British  army. 

Gleig,  Mill,  and  Thorn  have  all  told  the  tale  of  this  war,  though 
somehow  they  have  omitted  all  mention  of  the  hero  of  it.  General 
Lake,  for  the  victory  of  that  day,  became  Lord  Lake  of  Laswaree. 
Laswaree  !  and  who,  forsooth,  was  the  real  conqueror  of  Laswaree  ? 
I  can  lay  my  hand  upon  my  heart  and  say  that  /  was.  If  any 
proof  is  wanting  of  the  fact,  let  me  give  it  at  once,  and  from  the 
highest  military  testimony  in  the  world — I  mean  that  of  the 
Emperor  Xapoleon. 

In  the  month  of  March  1817,  I  was  passenger  on  board  the 
Prince  Regent,  Ca])tain  Harris,  which  touched  at  St.  Helena  on 
its  passage'  from  Calcutta  to  England.  In  company  with  the  otlier 
officers  on  board  the  ship,  I  paid  my  respects  to  the  illustrious  exile 
of  Longwood,  who  received  us  in  his  garden,  where  he  was  walking 
about,  in  a  nankeen  dress  and  a  large  broad-brimmed  straw  hat, 
with  General  Montholon,  Count  Las  Casas,  and  his  son  Emanuel, 
then  a  little  boy  ;  who  I  dare  say  does  not  recollect  me,  but^  who 
nevertheless  played  with  my  sword-knot  and  the  tassels  oi  my 
Hessian  boots  during  the  whole  of  our  interview  with  his  Imperial 
Majesty. 

Our  names  were  read  out  (in  a  pretty  accent,  by  the  way  !)  by 


138   THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES  OF 

General  Moiitholon,  and  the  Emperor,  as  each  was  pronouncedi 
made  a  bow  to  the  owner  of  it,  but  did  not  vouchsafe  a  word.  At 
last  Montholon  came  to  mine.  The  Enij)oror  looked  me  at  once 
in  the  face,  took  his  hands  out  of  his  pockets,  put  tliem  behind 
his  back,  and  coming  up  to  me  smiling,  pronounced  the  following 
words  : — ■ 

"  Assaye,  Delhi,  Deeg,  Futtyghur  ?  " 

I  blushed,  and,  taking  off  my  hat  with  a  bow,  said,  "  Sire, 
c'est  moi." 

"  Parbleu  !  je  le  savais  bien,"  said  tlie  Emperor,  holding  out  his 
snuft-box.  "  Eu  usez-vous,  Major  ? "  I  took  a  large  ])incli  (which, 
with  the  honour  of  speaking  to  so  great  a  man,  In'ought  the  tears 
into  my  eyes),  and  he  continued  as  nearly  as  possible  in  the  follow- 
ing words : — 

"  Sir,  you  are  known ;  you  come  of  an  heroic  nation.  Your 
third  brotlier,  tlie  Chef  de  Bataillon,  Count  Godfrey  Gahagan,  was 
in  my  Irish  Brigade." 

Gahagan.  "  Sire,  it  is  true.  He  and  my  countrymen  in  your 
Majesty's  service  stood  under  the  green  Hag  in  the  breach  of  Burgos, 
and  beat  "Wellington  back.  It  wa.s  the  only  time,  as  your  Majesty 
knows,  that  Irishmen  and  Englishmen  were  beaten  in  tliat  war." 

Nai^oleon  {looking  as  if  he  would  say,  "Z* your  candour, 

Major  Gahagan").  ""Well,  well ;  it  was  so.  Your  brother  was  a 
Count,  and  died  a  General  in  my  service." 

Gahagan.  "  He  was  found  lying  upon  the  bodies  of  nine-and- 
twenty  Cossacks  at  Borodino.  They  were  all  dead,  and  hcire  the 
Gahagan  mark." 

Xapoleon  {to  Montholov).  "  C'est  vrai,  Montholon  :  je  vous 
donne  ma  i)aroIe  d'honneur  la  plus  sacrdc,  que  c'est  vrai.  lis  ne 
sont  pas  d'autres,  ces  terribles  Ga'gans.  You  must  know  that 
Monsieiu*  gained  the  battle  of  Delhi  as  certainly  as  I  did  that  of 
Austerlitz.  In  this  way : — Ce  belitre  de  Lor  Lake,  after  calling 
\i\)  his  cavalry,  and  placing  them  in  front  of  Holkar's  batteries,  qui 
balayaient  la  plaine,  was  for  charging  the  enemy's  batteries  with  his 
horse,  who  would  have  been  ^crasds,  mitrailMs,  foudroy^s  to  a  man 
but  for  the  cunning  of  ce  grand  rogue  que  vous  voyez." 

Montholon.   "  Coquin  de  Major,  va  !  " 

Xapoleon.  "  Montholon !  tais-toi.  When  Lord  Lake,  with 
his  great  bull-headed  English  obstinacy,  saw  the  fdcheuse  position 
into  which  he  had  brought  his  troops,  he  wa.s  for  dying  on  the  spot, 
and  would  infallibly  have  done  so — and  the  loss  of  his  army  would 
have  been  the  niin  of  the  East  India  Company — and  the  niin  of 
the  English  East  India  Company  vrould  have  established  my  Empire 
(bah  !  it  was  a  republic  then !)  in  the  East — but  that  the  man 


MAJOR    GAHAGAN  139 

before  us,  Lieutenant  Goliah  Galiagan,  was  riding  at  the  side  of 
General  Lake." 

Montholon  (with  an  acceyit  of  desjmir  and  fury),  "  Grcdin  ! 
cent  mille  tonnerres  de  Dieu  !  " 

Napoleon  {benignantly).  "  Calme-toi,  mon  fiddle  ami.  What 
will  you?  It  was  fate.  Gahagan,  at  the  critical  period  of  the 
battle,  or  rather  slaughter  (for  the  English  had  not  slain  a  man 
of  the  enemy),  advised  a  retreat." 

Montholon.  "  Le  lache  !  Un  Fran^ais  meurt,  mais  il  ne  recule 
jamais." 

Napoleon.  "  Stnpide !  Don't  you  see  ",.vhy  the  retreat  was 
ordered  ? — don't  you  know  that  it  was  a  feint  on  the  part  of 
Gahagan  to  draw  Holkar  from  his  impregnable  entrenchments  1 
Don't  you  know  that  the  ignorant  Lidian  fell  into  tlie  snare,  and 
issuing  from  beliind  the  cover  of  his  guns,  came  down  with  his 
cavalry  on  the  plains  in  pursuit  of  Lake  and  his  dragoons  ?  Then 
it  was  that  the  Englishmen  turned  upou  him ;  the  hardy  children 
of  the  North  swe]:)t  down  his  feeble  horsemen,  bore  them  back  to 
their  guns,  which  were  useless,  entered  Holkar's  entrenchments 
along  with  his  troops,  sabred  the  artillerymen  at  their  pieces,  and 
won  the  battle  of  Dellii !  " 

As  the  Emperor  spoke,  his  pale  check  glowed  red,  his  eye 
flashed  fire,  his  deep  clear  voice  rung  as  of  old  when  lie  i)ointed  out 
the  enemy  from  beneath  the  shadow  of  the  Pyramids,  or  rallied  his 
regiments  to  tlie  charge  upon  the  death-strewn  plain  of  Wagram. 
I  have  had  many  a  proud  moment  in  my  life,  but  never  such  a 
proud  one  as  this ;  and  I  would  readily  pardon  the  word  "  coward," 
as  applied  to  me  by  Montholon,  in  consideration  of  the  testimony 
which  his  master  bore  in  my  favour. 

"  Major,"  said  the  Emperor  to  me  in  conclusion,  "  why  had  I 
not  such  a  man  as  \o\x  in  my  service  1  I  would  have  made  you  a 
Prince  and  a  Marshal !  "  and  here  he  fell  into  a  reverie,  of  which 
I  knew  and  respected  the  purport.  He  was  thinking,  doubtless, 
that  I  miglit  have  retrieved  his  fortunes ;  and  indeed  I  have  very 
little  doubt  that  I  might. 

Very  soon  after  coffee  was  brought  by  Monsieur  Marchand, 
Napoleon's  valet-de-chambre,  and  after  partaking  of  that  beverage, 
and  talking  upon  the  politics  of  the  day,  the  Emperor  Mithdiew, 
leaving  me  deeply  impressed  by  the  condescension  he  had  shown  in 
this  remarkable  interview. 


CHAPTER  III 

A  PEEP  INTO  SPAIX— ACCOUNT  OF  THE  ORIGIN  AND  SERVICES 
OF  THE  AHMEDNUGGAR  IRREGULARS 

Headquarters,  Morella  :  September  15,  1838. 

IHAVE  been  here  for  some  months,  along  with  my  young  friend 
Cabrera  ;  and  in  the  liurry  and  bustle  of  war — daily  on  guard 
and  in  the  batteries  for  sixteen  hours  out  of  the  twenty-foiu-, 
with  fourteen  severe  wounds  and  seven  musket-balls  in  my  body — 
it  may  be  imagined  that  I  have  had  little  time  to  think  about  the 
publicaticn  of  my  memoirs.  Inter  anna  silent  leges — in  the  midst 
of  fighting  be  hanged  to  "WTiting  !  as  the  poet  says ;  and  I  never 
would  have  bothered  myself  with  a  pen,  had  not  common  gratitude 
inciteil  me  to  throw  off  a  few  pages. 

Along  with  Oraa's  troops,  who  have  of  late  been  beleaguering 
this  i)lace,  there  was  a  young  Milesian  gentleman,  Mr.  Toone 
O'Connor  Euunctt  Fitzgerald  Sheeny  by  name,  a  law  student,  and 
a  member  of  Gray's  Inn,  and  what  he  called  Bay  Ah  of  Trinity 
College,  Dublin.  ]\Ir.  Sheeny  was  with  the  Queen's  people,  not 
in  a  military  capacity,  but  as  representative  of  an  English  journal ; 
to  wliich,  for  a  trifling  weekly  remuneration,  he  was  in  the  habit  of 
transmitting  accounts  of  the  movements  of  the  belligerents,  and  his 
own  opinion  of  the  politics  of  Spain.  Receiving,  for  the  discharge 
of  his  duty,  a  couple  of  guineas  a  week  from  the  proprietors  of  the 
journal  in  (luestion,  he  was  enabled,  as  I  need  scarcely  say,  to  make 
such  a  show  in  Oraa's  camp  as  only  a  Christino  general  officer,  or  at 
the  very  least  a  colonel  of  a  regiment,  can  afford  to  keep  up. 

In  the  famous  sortie  which  we  maileupon  the  twenty-third,  I 
was  of  course  among  the  foremost  in  the  melee,  and  found  myself, 
after  a  good  deal  of  slaughtering  (which  it  would  be  as  disagreeable 
as  useless  to  describe  here),  in  the  court  of  a  small  inn  or  podesta, 
which  had  been  made  the  headquarters  of  several  Queenite  officers 
during  the  siege.  The  pesatero  or  landlord  of  the  inn  had  been 
despatched  by  my  brave  chapel-churics,  with  his  fine  family  of 
children — -the  officers  quartered  in  the  podesta  had  of  course  bolted  ; 
but  one  man  remained,  and  my  fellows  were  on  the  i)oint  of  cutting 
Liim  into  ten  thousand  pieces  ^nth  their  borachios,  when  I  arrived 


MAJOR    GAHAGAN  141 

in  the  room  time  enough  to  prevent  the  catastrophe.  Seeing  before 
me  an  individual  in  the  costume  of  a  civilian — a  white  hat,  a  light- 
blue  satin  cravat,  embroidered  Avith  butterflies  and  other  quadrupeds, 
a  green  coat  and  brass  buttons,  and  a  pair  of  blue  plaid  trousers,  I 
recognised  at  once  a  countryman,  and  interposed  to  save  his  life. 

In  an  agonised  brogue  the  unhappy  young  man  was  saying  all 
that  he  could  to  induce  the  chapcl-churies.  to  give  up  their  intention 
of  slaughtering  hijn  ;  but  it  is  very  little  likely  that  his  protesta- 
tions would  have  had  any  effect  upon  them,  had  not  I  appeared  in 
the  room,  and  shouted  to  the  ruffians  to  hold  their  hand. 

Seeing  a  general  officer  before  them  (I  have  the  honour  to  hold 
that  rank  in  the  service  of  His  Catholic  Majesty),  and  moreover 
one  six  feet  four  in  height,  and  armed  with  that  terrible  cabecilla 
(a  sword  so  called,  because  it  is  five  feet  long)  which  is  so  well 
known  among  the  Spanish  armies — seeing,  I  say,  this  figure,  the 
fellows  retired,  exclaiming,  "  Adios,  corpo  di  bacro  nosotros,"  and 
so  on,  clearly  proving  (by  their  words)  that  they  would,  if  they 
dared,  have  immolated  the  victim  whom  I  had  thus  rescued  from 
their  fury.  "  Villains  !  "  shouted  I,  hearing  them  grumble,  "  away  ! 
quit  the  apartment ! "  Each  man,  sulkily  sheathing  his  sombrero, 
obeyed,  and  quitted  the  camarilla. 

It  was  then  that  Mr.  Sheeny  detailed  to  me  the  particulars  to 
which  I  have  briefly  adverted ;  and,  informing  me  at  the  same 
time  that  he  had  a  fiimily  in  England  who  would  feel  oljliged  to 
me  for  his  release,  and  that  his  most  intimate  friend  the  English 
Ambassador  would  move  heaven  and  earth  to  revenge  his  fall,  he 
directed  my  attention  to  a  portmanteau  passably  aycII  filled,  which 
he  hoped  would,  satisfy  the  cujadity  of  my  trooi)S.  I  said,  though 
with  much  regret,  that  I  nnist  subject  his  pers(.in  to  a  search  ;  and 
hence  arose  the  circumstance  which  has  called  for  what  I  fear  you 
will  consider  a  somewhat  tedious  explanation.  I  found  upon  Mr. 
Sheeny's  person  three  sovereigns  in  English  money  (which  I  have  to 
this  day),  and  singidarly  enough  a  copy  of  the  Xcio  Monthly 
Magazine,  containing  a  jjortiou  of  my  adventures.  It  was  a  toss-uj) 
whether  I  should  let  the  poor  young  man  be  shot  or  no,  but  this 
little  circumstance  saved  his  life.  The  gratified  vanity  of  author- 
ship induced  me  to  accept  his  ix)rtmanteau  and  valual)les,  and  to 
allow  the  poor  wretch  to  go  free.  I  put  the  magazine  in  my  coat- 
pocket,  and  left  him  and  the  podesta. 

The  men,  to  my  surprise,  had  quitted  the  building,  and  it  was 
full  time  for  me  to  follow  ;  for  I  found  our  sallying  party,  after  com- 
mitting dreadful  ravages  in  Oraa's  lines,  were  in  full  retreat  upon 
the  fort,  hotly  pressed  by  a  superior  Ibrce  of  the  enemy.  I  am 
pretty  well  knov/n  and  respected  by  the  men  of  both  parties  in 
12 


142   THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES  OF 

Spain  (indeed  I  served  for  some  months  on  the  Queen's  side  before 
I  came  over  to  Don  Carlos) ;  and,  as  it  is  my  maxim  never  to  give 
quarter,  I  never  expect  to  receive  it  when  taken  myself.  On  issuing 
from  the  poflesta  with  Sheeny's  portmanteau  and  my  sword  in  my 
hand,  I  was  a  little  disgusted  and  annoyed  to  see  our  own  men  in  a 
pretty  good  column  retreating  at  double-quick,  and  about  four 
hundred  yards  beyond  me,  uj)  the  hill  leading  to  the  fort ;  Avhile  on 
my  left  hand,  and  at  only  a  hundred  yards,  a  troop  of  the  Queenite 
lancers  were  clattering  along  the  road. 

I  had  got  into  the  very  middle  of  the  road  before  I  made  this 
discovery,  so  that  the  fellows  had  a  full  sight  of  me,  and  whizz  ! 
came  a  bullet  by  my  left  whisker  before  I  could  say  Jack  Robinson. 
I  looked  roimd — there  Avere  seventy  of  the  accursed  malvados  at  the 
least,  and  witliin,  as  I  said,  a  hundred  yards.  Were  I  to  say  that 
I  stopped  to  fight  seventy  men,  you  would  write  me  down  a  fool  or 
a  liar :  no,  sir,  I  did  not  fight,  I  ran  away. 

I  am  six  feet  four — my  figure  is  as  well  known  in  the  Sjianish 
army  as  that  of  the  Count  de  Luchana,  or  my  fierce  httle  friend 
Cabrera  himself  "  Gahagan  !  "  shouted  out  half-a-dozen  scoundrelly 
voices,  and  fifty  more  shots  came  rattling  after  me.  I  was  running 
— running  as  the  brave  stag  before  the  hounds — running  as  I  have 
done  a  great  number  of  times  before  in  my  life,  when  there  was  no 
help  for  it  but  a  race. 

After  I  had  vm\  about  five  hundred  yards,  I  saw  that  I  had 
gained  nearly  tliree  upon  our  column  in  front,  and  that  likewise  the 
Christino  horsemen  were  left  behind  some  hundred  yards  more 
with  the  exception  of  three,  who  were  fearfidly  near  me.  The  first 
was  an  officer  without  a  lance  ;  he  had  fired  both  his  i)istols  at  me, 
and  was  twenty  yards  in  advance  of  his  comrades  ;  there  was  a 
similar  distance  between  the  two  lancers  who  rode  behind  him.  I 
determined  then  to  Avait  for  No.  1,  and  as  he  came  uj)  delivered  cut 
3  at  his  horse's  woax  leg — oft'  it  flew,  and  down,  as  I  expected,  went 
horse  and  man.  I  had  hardly  time  to  pass  iny  sword  through  my 
prostrate  enemy,  when  No.  2  was  upon  me.  If  I  could  but  get 
that  f(>llow's  horse,  thought  I,  I  am  .safe  ;  and  I  executed  at  once 
the  jilan  wliirh  I  hoped  was  to  effect  my  rescue. 

I  had,  as  I  said,  left  the  podesta  with  Sheeny's  portmanteau, 
and,  unwilling  to  part  with  some  of  the  articles  it  contained — some 
shirts,  a  bottle  of  whisky,  a  few  cakes  of  Windsor  soap,  &c.  &c., — 
I  had  carried  it  thus  far  on  my  shoulders,  but  now  Avas  compelled 
to  sacrifice  it  malgr4  moi.  As  the  lancer  came  uj)  I  dropjied  my 
sword  from  my  right  hand,  and  hurled  tlic  iiortmanteau  at  his  head, 
with  aim  so  true,  tliat  he  fell  back  on  his  saddle  like  a  sack,  and 
thus  when  the  horse  galloped  up  to  me,  I  had  no  difficuity  in  dis- 


J 


MAJOR    GAHAGAN  143 

mounting  the  rider :  the  whisky-bottle  struck  him  over  his  right 
eye,  and  he  was  completely  stunned.  To  dash  him  from  the  saddle 
and  spring  myself  into  it,  was  the  work  of  a  moment ;  indeed,  the 
two  combats  had  taken  place  in  about  a  fifth  part  of  the  time  which 
it  has  taken  the  reader  to  jieruse  the  descripti(jn.  But  in  the 
rapidity  of  the  last  encounter,  and  the  mounting  of  my  enemy's  horse, 
I  had  committed  a  very  absurd  oversight — I  was  scampering  away 
ivithout  my  sword!  What  was  I  to  do'? — to  scamper  on,  to  be 
sure,  and  trust  to  the  legs  of  my  horse  for  safety  ! 

The  lancer  behind  me  gained  on  me  every  moment,  and  I  could 
hear  his  horrid  laugh  as  he  neared  me.  I  leaned  forward  jockey- 
fashion  in  my  saddle,  and  kicked,  and  urged,  and  flogged  with  my 
hand,  but  all  in  vain.  Closer — closer — the  point  of  his  lance  was 
within  two  feet  of  my  back.  Ah  !  ah  !  he  delivered  the  point,  and 
fancy  my  agony  when  I  felt  it  enter — through  exactly  fifty-nine 
pages  of  the  N'e%o  Monthly  Magazine.  Had  it  not  been  for  that 
magazine,  I  sliouhl  have  been  impaled  without  a  shadow  of  a  doubt. 
Was  I  wrong  in  feeling  gi-atitudc  1  Had  I  not  cause  to  continue  my 
contributions  to  that  periodical  ? 

When  I  got  safe  into  Morella,  along  with  the  tail  of  tlie  sallying 
party,  I  was  for  the  first  time  made  acquainted  with  the  ridiculous 
result  of  the  lancer's  thrust  (as  he  delivered  his  lance,  I  must  tell 
you  that  a  ball  came  whizz  over  my  head  from  our  fellows,  and 
entering  at  his  nose,  put  a  stop  to  his  lancing  for  the  future).  I 
hastened  to  Cabrera's  quarter,  and  related  to  him  some  of  my 
adventures  during  the  day. 

"  But,  General,"  said  he,  "  you  are  standing.  I  leg  you  chindete 
Vuscio  (take  a  chair)." 

I  did  so,  and  then  for  the  first  time  was  aware  that  there  was 
some  foreign  substance  in  the  tail  of  my  coat,  wiiich  prevented  my 
sitting  at  ease.  I  drew  out  the  magazine  which  I  had  seized,  and 
there,  to  my  wonder,  discovered  the  Christino  lance  twisted  up  like 
a  fish-hook  or  a  pastoral  crook. 

"  Ha  !  ha  !  ha  !  "  said  Cabrera  (wlio  is  a  notorious  wag). 

"Valdepeuas  madrilenos,"  growled  out  Tristany. 

"  By  my  cachuca  di  caballero  (upon  my  honour  as  a  gentleman)," 
shrieked  out  Ros  d'Erolcs,  convulsed  with  laughter,  "  I  will  send  it 
to  the  Bishop  of  Leon  for  a  crozier." 

"Gahagan  has  consecrated  it,"  giggled  out  Ramon  Cabrera;  and 
so  they  went  on  with  their  muchacas  for  an  hour  or  more.  But 
when  they  heard  that  the  means  of  my  salvation  from  the  lance  of 
the  scoundrelly  Christino  had  been  the  magazine  containing  my  own 
history,  their  laugh  was  changed  into  ^wonder.  I  read  them  (speak- 
ing Spanish  more  fluently  than  English)  every  word  of  my  story. 


144   I'HK  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES  OF 

"  But  how  is  this  1 "  said  Cabrera.  "  You  surely  have  other  ad- 
ventures to  relate  1 " 

"Excellent  sir,"  said  I,  "I  have-"  and  that  very  evening,  as 
we  sat  over  our  cups  of  tertuUia  (sangaree),  I  continued  my  narrative 
in  nearly  the  following  words  : — 

"  I  left  off  in  the  very  middle  of  the  battle  of  Delhi,  which 
ended,  as  everybody  knows,  in  the  complete  triumph  of  the  British 
arms.  But  who  gained  the  battle  1  Lord  Lake  is  called  Viscount 
Like  of  Delhi  and  Laswaree,  while  Major  Gaha — nonsense,  never 
mind  him,  never  mind  tlie  charge  he  executed  when,  sabre  in  hand, 
h3  leaped  the  six-foot  wall  in  the  mouth  of  the  roaring  cannon,  over 
tha  heads  of  the  gleaming  pikes ;  when,  with  one  hand  seizing  the 
sacred  peislicush,  or  fish — which  was  the  banner  always  borne  before 
Soindiah, — he,  with  his  good  sword,  cut  off  the  trunk  of  the  famous 
white  elephant,  which,  shrieking  with  agony,  plunged  madly  into  the 
Mahratta  ranks,  followeil  by  his  giant  brethren,  tossing,  like  chaff 
before  the  wind,  the  affrighted  kitmatgars.  He,  meanwhile,  now 
plunging  into  the  midst  of  a  battalion  of  consomahs,  now  cleaving  to 
the  chine  a  screaming  and  ferocious  bobbachee,*  rushed  on,  like  the 
simoom  across  the  red  Zaharan  plain,  killing,  with  his  own  hand,  a 
hundred  and  forty-thr but  never  mind — 'alone  he  did  it;'  suffi- 
cient be  it  for  him,  however,  that  the  victory  was  won :  he  cares  not 
for  the  empty  honours  which  were  awarded  to  more  fortunate  men  ! 

"  We  marched  after  the  battle  to  Delhi,  where  poor  blind  old 
Shah  Allum  received  us,  and  bestowed  all  kinds  of  honours  and 
titles  on  our  General.  As  each  of  the  officers  passed  before  him,  the 
Shah  did  not  fliil  to  remark  my  iierson,t  and  was  told  my  name. 

"  Lord  Lake  whispered  to  him  my  exploits,  and  the  old  man 
was  so  delighted  with  the  account  of  my  victory  over  the  elephant 
(whose  trunk  I  use  to  this  day),  that  he  said,  '  Let  him  be  called 
GujpUTi,'  or  the  lord  of  elephants  :  and  Gujputi  was  the  name  by 
which  I  Avas  afterwards  familiarly  known  among  the  natives, — the 
men,  that  is.  The  women  had  a  softer  appellation  for  me,  and  called 
me  '■  Mushook,'  or  charmer. 

"  Well,  I  shall  not  describe  Delhi,  which  is  doubtless  well  known 
t  y  the  reader ;  nor  the  siege  of  Agra,  to  which  place  we  went  -from 
DoUii  ;  nor  the  terrible  day  at  Laswaree,  which  went  nigh  to  finish 
til  3  war.     Suffice  it  to  say  that  we  were  victorious,  and  that  I  was 

*  The  double-jointed  camel  of  Bactria,  which  the  classic  reader  may  re- 
collect is  mentioned  by  Suidas  (in  his  Conmientnry  on  the  Fli<jht  of  Darius),  is 
so  called  by  the  Mabrattas. 

+  There  is  some  trifling  inconsistency  on  the  Major's  part.  Shah  Alhim  was 
notoriously  blind  :  how,  then,  could  he  have  seen  Gahagan  ?  The  thing  is  mani- 
festly impossible. 


MAJOR   GAHAGAN  145 

wounded ;  as  I  have  invariably  been  in  the  two  hundred  and  foui 
occasions  when  I  have  found  myself  in  action.  One  jjoint,  however, 
became  in  the  course  of  this  caniimign  quite  evident — that  soiaething 
must  be  done  for  Gahagan.  The  country  cried  shame,  the  King's 
troops  grumbled,  the  seixjys  openly  nun-mured  that  their  Gujputi 
Avas  only  a  lieutenant,  when  he  had  ])erformed  such  signal  services. 
What  was  to  be  done  1  Lord  Wellcsley  was  in  an  evident  quandary. 
'Gahagan,'  wrote  he,  'to  be  a  subaltern  is  evidently  not  your  fate 
— you  tuere  horn  for  roiinnand  ;  but  Lake  and  General  Wellesley 
are  good  officers,  they  cannot  be  turned  out — I  nuist  make  a  post  for 
you.  AVhat  say  you,  my  dear  fellow,  to  a  corps  of  iiTcgular  horse  ? ' 
"Itwas  thus  that  the  fiimous  corjjsof  AhmednuggakIiiregulaes 
had  its  origin  ;  a  guerilla  force,  it  is  true,  but  one  which  will  long 
be  remembered  in  tlie  annals  of  our  Indian  campaigns. 

"As  the  commander  of  this  regiment,  I  was  allowed  to  settle 
the  r.niform  of  the  corjjs,  as  well  as  to  select  recruits.  These  were 
not  wanting  as  soon  as  my  appointment  was  made  known,  but 
came  flocking  to  my  standard  a  great  deal  faster  than  to  the  regular 
corps  in  the  Company's  service.  I  had  European  officers,  of  course, 
to  command  them,  and  a  few  of  my  countrymen  as  sergeants  ;  the 
rest  were  all  natives,  whom  I  chose  of  the  strongest  and  bravest 
men  in  India;  chiefly  Pitans,  Afghans,  Hurrumzadelis,  and  Calliawns: 
for  these  are  well  known  to  be  the  most  warlike  districts  of  our 
Indian  territory. 

"  When  on  parade  and  in  full  uniform  we  made  a  singular  and 
nol")le  appearance.  I  was  always  fond  of  dress  ;  and  in  this  in- 
stance gave  a  carte  blanche  to  my  taste,  and  invented  the  most 
splendid  costume  that  ever  i^erhaps  decorated  a  soldier.  I  am,  as 
I  have  stated  already,  six  feet  four  inches  in  height,  and  of  matcli- 
less  symmetry  and  i^roportion.  My  hair  and  beard  are  of  tlie  most 
brilliant  auburn,  so  bright  as  scarcely  to  be  distinguished  at  a 
distance  from  scarlet.  My  eyes  are  bright  blue,  overshadowed  by 
bushy  eyebrows  of  the  colour  of  my  hair,  and  a  terrific  gasli  of  the 
deepest  purple,  which  goes  over  the  foreliead,  the  eyelid,  and  the 
cheek,  and  finishes  at  the  ear,  gives  my  face  a  more  strictly  military 
appearance  than  can  be  conceived.  When  I  have  been  drinking 
(as  is  pretty  often  the  case)  this  gash  becomes  ruby  bright,  and  as 
I  have  another  which  took  off"  a  piece  of  my  under-lip,  and  shows 
five  of  my  front  teeth,  I  leave  you  to  imagine  that  '  seldom  lighted 
on  the  earth  '  (as  the  monster  Burke  remarked  of  one  of  his  unliappy 
victims)  '  a  more  extraordinary  vision.'  I  imi)roved  these  natural 
advantages;  and,  while  in  cantonment  during  the  hot  winds  at 
Chittyb6bbary,  allowed  my  hair  to  grow  very  long,  as  did  my  beard, 


146   THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES  OF 

which  reached  to  my  Avaist.  It  took  me  two  hours  daily  to  curl 
my  hair  in  ten  thousand  little  corkscrew  ringlets,  which  waved  over 
my  shoulders,  and  to  get  my  moustaches  well  round  to  the  corners 
of  my  eyelids.  I  dressed  in  loose  scarlet  trousers  and  red  morocco 
boots,  a  scarlet  jacket,  and  a  shawl  of  the  same  colour  round  my 
waist ;  a  scarlet  turban  three  feet  high,  and  decorated  with  a  tuft 
of  the  scarlet  feathers  of  the  flamingo,  formed  my  head-dress,  and 
I  did  not  allow  myself  a  single  ornament,  except  a  small  silver  skull 
and  croas-bones  in  front  of  my  turban.  Two  brace  of  pistols,  a 
Malay  crc-ese,  and  a  tulwar,  sharp  on  both  sides,  and  very  nearly 
six  feet  in  length,  completed  this  elegant  costume.  My  two  flags 
were  each  surmounted  with  a  real  skull  and  cross-bones,  and  orna- 
mented one  with  a  black,  and  the  other  with  a  red  beard  (of 
enormous  length,  taken  from  men  slain  in  battle  by  me).  On  one 
flag  were  of  course  the  arms  of  John  Comi)any ;  on  the  other,  an 
image  of  myself  bestriding  a  prostrate  elephant,  with  the  simple 
word  'GujpUTi' written  underneath  in  the  Nagarec,  Persian,  and 
Sanscrit  characters.  I  rode  my  black  horse,  and  looked,  l)y  the 
immortal  gods,  like  Mars.  To  me  might  be  applied  the  words 
which  were  written  concerning  hantlsome  General  ^^'ebb,  in  I\Iarl- 
borough's  time : — 

'  To  noltlc  d.'irifjcr  lio  conducts  the  way. 
His  great  example  all  his  troop  obey, 
Before  the  front  the  Major  sternly  rides, 
With  such  an  air  as  Mars  to  battle  strides. 
Propitious  Heaven  must  sure  a  hero  save 
Like  Paris  handsome,  and  like  Hector  brave  ! ' 

"My  oflicei-s  (Captains  Biggs  and  Mackanulty,  Lieutenants 
Glogger,  Pajipendirk,  Stuflle,  &c.  &c.)  were  dressed  exactly  in  the 
same  way,  but  in  yellow  ;  and  the  men  were  similarly  eciuijipcd,  but 
in  Itlack.  I  have  seen  many  regiments  since,  and  many  ferocious- 
looking  men,  but  the  Ahmednuggjir  Irregulars  were  more  dreadful 
to  the  view  tliaii  any  set  of  niflians  on  whieh  I  ever  set  eyes.  I 
would  to  Heaven  that  the  Czar  of  Muscovy  had  passed  through 
Cabool  and  Lahore,  and  that  I  with  my  old  Ahmednuggars  stood 
on  a  fair  field  to  meet  him !  Bless  you,  bless  you,  my  swart  com- 
panicns  in  victory !  through  the  mist  of  twenty  years  I  hear  the 
booming  of  your  war-cry,  and  mark  the  glitter  of  your  scimitars  as 
ye  rage  in  the  thickest  of  the  battle  !  * 

*  I  dj  not  wish  to  brag  of  my  stylo  of  writing,  or  to  pretend  that  my 
penius  a-;  a  writer  has  not  been  equalled  in  former  times  ;  but  if,  in  the  works 
of  Byron,  Scott,  Goethe,  or  Victor  Hugo,  the  reader  can  find  a  more  beautiful 
sentence  than  the  above,  I  vs-ill  be  obliged  to  him,  that  is  all — I  simply  say,  / 
will  be  ol.lficd  to  him.—G.  O'G.  G.,  M.H.E.I.C.S.,  C.I.H.A. 


MAJOR    GAHAGAN  147 

"  But  away  -with  melancholy  reminiscences.  You  may  fancy 
what  a  figure  the  Irregulars  cut  on  a  field-day  —  a  line  of  five 
hundred  black-fliced,  hlack-dressed,  hlack-horsed,  black-bearded  men 
— Biggs,  Glogger,  and  the  other  officers  in  yellow,  galloping  about 
the  field  like  flashes  of  lightning  ;  myself  enlightening  them,  red, 
solitary,  and  majestic,  like  yon  glorious  orb  in  heaven. 

"There  are  very  few  men,  I  ])resume,  Avho  have  not  heard 
of  Holkar's  sudden  and  gallant  incursion  into  the  Dooab,  in  the 
year  1804,  when  Ave  thought  that  the  victory  of  Laswaree  and  the 
brilliant  success  at  Deeg  had  completely  finished  him.  Taking  ten 
thousand  horse  he  broke  \\\)  his  camj)  at  Palimbang ;  and  the  first 
thing  General  Lake  heard  of  him  Avas,  that  he  Avas  at  Putna,  then 
at  Rumpooge,  then  at  Doncaradam — he  Avas,  in  fact,  in  the  very 
heart  of  our  territory. 

"  The  unfortunate  part  of  the  affair  Avas  this  : — His  Excellency, 
despising  the  Mahratta  chieftain,  had  alloAvcd  him  to  advance  about 
two  thousand  miles  in  his  front,  and  knew  not  in  the  slightest 
degree  where  to  lay  hold  on  him.  Was  he  at  Hazarubaug'?  Avas  he 
at  Bogly  Gunge'?  nobody  knew,  and  for  a  considerable  period  the 
movements  of  Lake's  caA'alry  Avere  (piite  ambiguous,  uncertain,  j^ro- 
miscuous,  and  rndetermined. 

"Such,  briefly,  Avas  the  state  of  aftairs  in  October  1804.  At 
the  beginning  of  that  month  I  had  been  Avoundcd  (a  trifling  scratch, 
cutting  ott"  my  left  upper  eyelid,  a  bit  of  my  cheek,  and  my  under- 
lip),  and  I  was  obliged  to  leave  Biggs  in  ciaumand  of  my  Irregidar;'-, 
whilst  I  retired  for  my  Avounds  to  an  English  station  at  Furruckal)ad, 
alias  Futtyghur — it  is,  as  every  twopenny  postman  knows,  at  the 
apex  of  the  Dooab.  We  have  there  a  cantonment,  and  thither  I 
went  for  the  mere  sake  of  the  surgeon  and  the  sticking-plaster. 

"  Furruckabad,  then,  is  divided  into  tAvo  districts  or  toAvns  :  the 
lower  C^otwal,  inhabited  by  the  natives,  and  the  up|)er  (which  is 
fortified  slightly,  and  has  all  along  been  called  Futtyghur,  meaning 
in  Hindustanee  '  the-faA'ouritc-resort-of-the-Avhite-foced-Feringhees- 
near-the-mango-tope-consecrated-to-Ram '),  occupied  by  Europeans. 
(It  is  astonisiiing,  by  the  Avay,  hoAv  comprehensive  that  language  is, 
and  hoAv  much  can  be  conveyed  in  one  or  tAvo  of  the  conmionest 
phrases.) 

"  Biggs,  then,  and  my  men  AS'ere  playing  all  sorts  of  Avondrous 
pranks  Avith  Lord  Lake's  army,  Avhilst  I  Avas  detained  an  unwilling 
prisoner  of  health  at  Futtyghur. 

"  An  unAvilling  prisoner,  hoAvever,  I  should  not  say.  The  canton- 
ment at  Futtyghur  contained  that  Avliich  Avould  have  made  any  man 
a  happy  sla-ve.  Woman,  lovely  woman,  Avas  there  in  abundance  and 
3'ariety  !    Tlie  fact  is,  that,  Avhcn  the  campaign  commenced  in  1803, 


148   THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES  OF 

the  ladies  of  the  army  all  congregated  to  this  place,  where  they  were 
left,  as  it  was  supposed,  in  safety.  I  might,  like  Homer,  relate  the 
names  and  qualities  of  all.  I  may  at  least  mention  some  whose 
memory  is  still  most  dear  to  me.     There  was — 

"  Mrs.  Major-General  Bulcher,  wife  of  Bulcher  of  the  Infantry. 

"  Miss  Bulcher. 

"  Miss  Belinda  Bulcher  (whose  name  I  beg  the  printer  to 
place  in  large  capitals). 

"  Mrs.  Colonel  Vandegobbleschroy. 

"  Mrs.  Major  Macan  and  the  four  Misses  Macan. 

"  The  Honourable  Mrs.  Burgoo,  ]\Irs.  Flix,  Hicks,  Wicks,  and 
iuany  more  too  numerous  to  mention.  The  flower  of  our  camp  was, 
however,  collected  there,  and  tlie  last  words  of  Lord  Lake  to  me,  as 
I  left  him,  were,  '  Galiagan,  I  commit  those  women  to  your  charge. 
Guard  tlicm  with  your  life,  watch  over  them  with  your  honour, 
defend  tliem  with  the  matchless  power  of  your  indomitable  arm.' 

"  Futtyghur  is,  as  I  have  said,  a  European  station,  and  the 
pretty  air  of  the  bungalows,  amid  the  clustering  topes  of  mango- 
trees,  has  often  ere  this  excited  the  admiration  of  the  tourist  and 
sketcher.  On  the  brow  of  a  hill — the  Burrumpooter  river  rolls 
majestically  at  its  base  ;  and  no  spot,  in  a  word,  can  be  conceived 
more  exquisitely  arranged,  both  by  art  and  nature,  as  a  favourite 
residence  of  tlie  British  fair.  Mrs.  Bulcher,  Mrs.  A^'andcgobbleschroy, 
and  the  other  married  ladies  above  mentioned,  had  each  of  them 
delightful  bungalows  and  gardens  in  the  place,  and  between  one 
cottage  anil  another  my  time  passed  as  delightfully  as  can  the  hours 
of  any  man  who  is  away  from  his  darling  occupation  of  war. 

"I  was  the  commandant  of  tlie  fort.  It  is  a  little  insignificant 
pettah,  defended  simply  by  a  couple  of  gabions,  a  very  ordinary 
counterscai-p,  and  a  bomb-proof  embrasure.  On  the  top  of  this  my 
flag  was  pmntcd,  and  the  small  garrison  of  forty  men  only  Avere 
comfortably  barracked  oft'  in  the  casemates  within.  A  surgeon 
and  two  chaplains  (there  Avere  besides  three  reverend  gentlemen 
of  amateur  missions,  who  lived  in  the  town)  completed,  as  I  may 
say,  the  garrison  of  our  little  fortalice,  which  I  was  left  to  defend 
and  to  command. 

"On  the  night  of  the  first  of  November,  in  the  year  1804,  I 
had  invited  ]\Irs.  Major-General  Bidcher  and  her  daughters,  ]Mrs. 
Vandegobbleschroy,  and,  indeed,  all  the  ladies  in  the  cantonment, 
to  a  little  festival  in  honour  of  tlie  recovery  of  my  healtli,  of  the 
commencement  of  the  shooting  season,  and  indeed  as  a  farewell  visit, 
for  it  was  my  intention  to  take  dawk  the  A'ery  next  morning  and 
return  to  my  regiment.  The  three  amateur  missionaj-ies  whom  I 
have  mentioned,  and  some  ladies  in  the  cantonment  of  very  rigid 


MAJOR    GAHAGAN  149 

religions  principles,  refused  to  appear  at  my  little  party.  They 
had  better  never  have  been  born  tlian  have  done  as  they  did  :  as 
you  shall  hear. 

"  AVe  had  been  dancing  merrily  all  night,  and  the  supjier  (chietly 
of  the  delicate  condor,  the  luscious  adjutant,  and  other  birds  of  a 
similar  kind,  which  I  hud  shot  in  the  course  of  the  day)  had  been 
duly  feted  by  every  lady  and  gentleman  present ;  when  I  took  an 
opportunity  to  retire  on  the  ramparts,  with  the  interesting  and 
lovely  Belinda  Bulcher.  I  w^as  occupied,  as  the  French  say,  in 
conter-iwg  Jieurettes  to  this  sweet  young  creature,  when,  all  of  a 
sudden,  a  rocket  was  •  seen  whizzing  through  the  air,  and  a  strong 
light  was  visible  in  the  valley  below  the  little  fort. 

"'What,  fireworks!  Captain  Gahagan,'  said  Belinda;  'this  is 
too  gallant.' 

"  '  Indeed,  my  dear  Miss  Bulcher,'  said  I,  '  they  are  fireworks  of 
which  I  have  no  idea  :  perhaps  our  friends  tlie  missionaries ' 

"  '  Look,  look  ! '  said  Belinda,  trend:)ling,  and  clutching  tightly 
hold  of  my  arm:  'what  do  I  see?  yes  —  no  —  yes!  it  is  —  our 
hungaloiv  is  in  flames  I ' 

"It  was  true,  the  spacious  bungalow  occupied  by  Mrs.  Major- 
General  was  at  that  moment  seen  a  prey  to  the  devouring  element 
— another  and  another  succeeded  it — seven  bungalows,  before  I  could 
almost  ejaculate  the  name  of  Jack  Robinson,  were  seen  blazing 
brightly  in  the  black  midnight  air ! 

"  I  seized  my  night-glass,  and  looking  towards  the  sjjot  where 
the  conflagration  raged,  what  was  my  astonishment  to  see  thousands 
of  black  forms  dancing  round  the  fires  ;  whilst  by  their  lights  I 
could  observe  columns  after  columns  of  Indian  horse,  arriving  and 
taking  up  their  ground  in  the  very  middle  of  the  open  square  or 
tank,  round  which  the  bungalows  weve  built ! 

"  '  Ho,  warder  ! '  shouted  I  (while  the  frightened  and  trembling 
Belinda  clung  closer  to  my  side,  and  pressed  the  stalwart  arm  that 
encircled  her  waist),  '  down  with  the  drawbridge !  see  that  your  masol- 
gees'  (small  tumbrels  Avhich  are  used  in  place  of  large  artillery) 
'  be  well  loaded  :  you,  sepoys,  hasten  and  man  the  ravelin  !  you, 
choprasees,  put  out  the  lights  in  the  embrasures  !  we  sliall  have 
warm  work  of  it  to-night,  or  my  name  is  not  Goliah  Gahagan.' 

"The  ladies,  the  guests  (to  the  number  of  eighty-three),  ll;e 
sepoys,  choprasees,  masolgees,  and  so  on,  had  all  crowded  on  the 
platform  at  the  sound  of  my  shouting,  and  dreadful  was  the  cnn- 
sternation,  shrill  the  screaming,  occasioned  by  my  words.  The  r.:cn 
stood  irresolute  and  unite  with  terror;  the  women,  trembling,  knew 
scarcely  whither  to  fly  for  refuge.  '  Who  are  yonder  ruflians  ? '  f  aid  i. 
A  hundred  voices  yelped  in  rei)ly— some  said  the  Pindarces,  some 


150   THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES  OF 

said  the  Mahrattas,  some  vowed  it  was  Scindiab,  and  others  declared 
it  was  Holkar — no  one  knew. 

"'Is  there  any  one  here,'  said  I,  'who  will  venture  to  recon- 
noitre yonder  troops  ? '     There  was  a  dead  pause. 

"  '  A  thousand  tomauns  to  the  man  who  vnW  bring  me  news  of 
yonder  army ! '  again  I  repeated.  Still  a  dead  silence.  The  fact 
was  tliat  Sfindiah  and  Holkar  both  were  so  notorious  for  their 
cruelty,  that  no  one  dared  venture  to  face  the  danger.  *  Oh  for 
fifty  of  my  brave  Ahmednuggarees  ! '  thought  I. 

"  '  Gentlemen,'  said  I,  '  I  see  it — you  are  cowards — none  of  you 
dare  encounter  the  chance  even  of  death.  It  is  an  encouraging 
prospect :  know  you  not  that  the  niffian  Holkar,  if  it  be  he,  will 
with  to-morrow's  dawn  beleaguer  our  little  fort,  and  throAV  thou- 
sands of  men  against  our  walls'?  know  you  not  that,  if  we  are 
taken,  there  is  no  quarter,  no  liope ;  deatli  for  us — and  worse  than 
death  for  these  lovely  ones  assembled  here?'  Here  the  ladies 
shrieked  and  raised  a  howl  as  I  liave  hoard  tlie  jackals  on  a  sununer's 
evening.  Belinda,  my  dear  Belinda  !  Hung  both  her  arms  round  me, 
and  sobbed  on  my  shoulder  (or  in  my  waistcoat-pocket  rather,  for 
the  little  witch  couhl  reach  no  higher). 

"  '  Captain  Gahajtan,'  sobbed  she,  '  Go — Go — Goggle — iah  1 ' 

"  '  ]\Iy  souls  adored  ! '  replied  I. 

"  *  Swear  to  me  one  thing.' 

" '  I  swear.' 

"  « That  if— that  if— the  nasty,  horrid,  odious  black  Mah-ra-a-a- 
attahs  take  the  fort,  you  will  put  me  out  of  their  power.' 

"  I  clasped  the  dear  girl  to  my  heart,  and  swore  upon  my  sword 
that,  rather  than  she  should  incur  the  risk  of  dishonour,  she  sliould 
perish  by  my  own  hand.  This  comforted  her;  and  lier  mother, 
Mrs.  Major-General  Buklier,  and  her  elder  sister,  who  had  not  until 
now  known  a  word  of  our  attachment  (indeed,  but  for  these  extra- 
orilinary  circumstances,  it  is  ]irol)able  that  we  ourselves  should  never 
have  discovered  it),  were  under  tliese  painful  circumstances  made 
aware  of  my  beloved  Belinda's  partiality  for  me.  Having  communi- 
cated thus  her  wish  of  self-destruction,  I  thought  her  exami)le  a 
touching  and  excellent  one,  and  proposed  to  all  the  ladies  that  they 
should  follow  it,  and  that  at  the  entry  of  the  enemy  into  the  fort, 
and  at  a  signal  given  by  me,  they  should  one  and  all  make  away 
with  themselves.  Fancy  my  disgust  when,  after  making  this 
proposition,  not  one  of  the  ladies  chose  to  accede  to  it,  and  received 
it  with  the  same  chilling  denial  that  my  former  proposal  to  the 
garrison  had  met  with. 

"  In  the  nuilst  of  this  hurry  and  confusion,  as  if  purposely  to  add 
to  it,  a  trumpet  was  heard  at  the  gate  of  the  fort,  and  one  of  the 


MAJOR    GAHAGAN 


^5^ 


sentinds  came  running  to  me,  saying  tliat  a  Mahratta  soldier  was 
before  tlie  gate  M'itli  a  flag  of  truce  ! 

"  I  Avent  down,  rightly  conjecturing,  as  it  turned  out,  that  the 
party,  whoever  they  might  be,  had  no  artillery  ;  and  received  at  the 
point  of  my  sword  a  scroll  of  which  the  fiJlowing  is  a  translation  : — 


"  '  1^0  Goliah  Gahwjan  Gvjpiiti. 

"  'Lord  of  Elephants,  Sir, — I  have  the  honour  to  inform  you 
that  I  arrived  before  tliis  place  at  eight  o'clock  p.m.  with  ten  thousand 
cavalry  under  my  orders.  I  have  burned,  since  my  arrival,  seventeen 
bungalows  in  Furruckabad  and  Futtyghur,  and  have  likcAvise  been 
under  the  painful  necessity  of  putting  to  death  three  clergymen 
(mollahs)  and  seven  English  otticers,  whom  I  found  in  the  village ; 
the  women  have  been  transferred  to  safe  keeping  in  the  h.arems  of 
my  officers  and  myself. 

" '  As  I  know  your  courage  and  talents,  I  shall  lie  very  happy  if 
you  will  surrender  tlie  fortress,  and  take  service  as  a  major-general 
(hookahbadar)  in  my  army.  Should  my  i)roposal  not  meet  with 
your  assent,  I  beg  leave  to  state  that  to-morrow  I  shall  storm  the 
fort,  and  on  taking  it,  shall  put  to  death  every  male  in  the  garrison, 
and  every  female  above  twenty  years  of  age.  For  yourself  I  shall 
reserve  a  punishment,  which  for  novelty  and  exquisite  torture  has,  I 
flatter  myself,  hardly  ever  been  exceeded.  Awaiting  the  favour  of 
a  reply,  I  am.  Sir,  your  very  obedient  servant, 

"  '  Jeswunt  Row  Holkar. 

"  'Camp  before  Futtyghuu  :  Septcmhtr  1,  1804. 
"  '  R.  S.  V.  P.' 

"  The  officer  who  had  brought  this  precious  epistle  (it  is  aston- 
ishing how  Holkar  had  aped  the  fonns  of  English  correspondence), 
an  enormous  Pitan  soldier,  with  a  shirt  of  mail,  and  n  steel  cap 
and  cape,  round  which  his  turban  womid,  was  leaning  against  the 
gate  on  his  matchlock,  and  whistling  a  national  melody.  I  read 
the  letter,  and  saw  at  once  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost.  That 
man,  thought  I,  must  never  go  back  to  Holkfir.  Were  lie  to 
attack  us  now  before  we  were  prepared,  the  fort  would  be  his  in 
half-an-hour. 

"  Tying  my  white  pocket-handkerchief  to  a  stick,  I  flung  open 
the  gate  and  advanced  to  the  oflicer  :  he  was  standing,  I  said,  on  the 
little  bridge  across  the  moat.  I  made  him  a  low  salaam,  after  the 
fashion  of  the  country,  and,  as  he  bent  forward  to  return  the  com- 
pliment, I  am  sorry  to  say,  I  plunged  forward,  gave  him  a  violent 


152   THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES  OF 

blow  on  the  head,  which  deprived  him  of  all  sensation,  and  then 
dragged  him  within  the  Avail,  raising  the  drawbridge  after  me. 

"  I  bore  the  body  into  my  own  apartment ;  there,  swift  a.?  thought, 
I  stripped  him  of  his  turban,  cammerbund,  peijammahs,  and  papooshes, 
and,  putting  them  on  myself,  determined  to  go  forth  and  reconnoitre 
the  enemy." 

Here  I  was  obliged  to  stop,  for  Cabrera,  Ros  d'Eroles,  and  the 
rest  of  the  staff  were  sound  asleep  !  What  I  did  in  my  reconnais- 
sance, and  how  I  defended  the  fort  of  Futtyghur,  I  shall  have  the 
honour  of  telling  on  another  occasion. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE  INDIAN  CAMP— THE  SORTIE  FROM  THE  FORT 

Headquarters;  Morella  :  October  3,  1838. 

IT  is  a  balmy  night.  I  hear  the  merry  jingle  of  the  tambourine, 
and  the  cheery  voices  of  the  girls  and  peasants,  as  they  dance 
beneath  my  casement,  under  the  shadow  of  the  clustering  vines. 
The  laugli  and  song  pass  gaily  round,  and  even  at  tliis  distance  I 
can  distinguish  the  elegant  form  of  Ramon  Cabrera,  as  he  whispers 
gay  nothings  in  the  ears  of  the  Andalusian  girls,  or  joins  in  the 
thrilling  chorus  of  Riego's  hymn,  wliich  is  ever  and  anon  vociferated 
by  the  enthusiastic  soldiery  of  Carlos  Quinto.  I  am  alone,  in  the 
most  inaccessible  and  most  bomb-proof  tower  of  our  little  fortalice  ; 
the  large  casements  are  open — the  wind,  as  it  enters,  whisjiers  in 
my  ear  its  odorous  recollections  of  the  orange  grove  and  the  myrtle 
bower.  My  torch  (a  branch  of  the  fragrant  cedar-tree)  flares  and 
flickers  in  tlic  midnight  breeze,  and  disperses  its  scent  and  burning 
splinters  on  my  scroll  and  the  desk  where  I  write — meet  implements 
for  a  soldier's  authorship  !- — it  is  cartridge  jiaper  over  which  my 
pen  nins  so  glibly,  and  a  yawning  barrel  of  gunpowder  forms  my 
rough  writing-table.  Around  me,  below  me,  above  me,  all — all  is 
peace  !  I  think,  as  I  sit  here  so  lonely,  on  my  country,  England  ! 
and  muse  over  the  sweet  and  bitter  recollections  of  my  early  days ! 
Let  me  resume  my  narrative  at  the  point  Avhere  (interrupted  by 
the  authoritative  summons  of  war)  I  paused  on  the  last  occasion. 

I  left  oflf,  I  think — (for  I  am  a  thousand  miles  away  from  proof- 
sheets  as  I  write,  and,  were  I  not  writing  the  simple  truth,  must 
contradict  myself  a  thousand  times  in  the  course  of  my  tale) — I 
think,  I  say,  that  I  left  off"  at  that  period  of  my  story,  wlien, 
Holkar  being  before  Futtyghur,  and  I  in  command  of  that  fortress, 
I  had  just  been  compelled  to  make  away  with  his  messenger :  and, 
dressed  in  the  fallen  Indian's  accoutrements,  went  forth  to  recon- 
noitre the  force,  and,  if  possible,  to  learn  the  intentions  of  the 
enemy.  However  much  my  figure  might  have  resembled  that  of  the 
Pitan,  and,  disguised  in  his  armour,  might  have  deceived  the  lynx- 
eyed  Mahrattas,  into  whose  camp  I  was  about  to  plunge,  it  Avas 
evident  that  a  single  glance  at  my  fair  face  and  auburn  beard  would 

N 


154      THE    TREMENDOUS    ADVENTURES    OF 

have  undeceived  the  dullest  blockhead  in  Holkars  army.  Seizing, 
then,  a  bottle  of  Burgess's  walnut  catsup,  I  dyed  my  face  and  my 
hands,  and,  with  the  simple  aid  of  a  flask  of  Warren's  jet,  I  made 
my  hair  and  beard  as  black  as  ebony.  The  Indian's  helmet  and 
chain  hood  covered  likewise  a  great  part  of  my  face,  and  I  hoped 
thus,  with  luck,  impudence,  and  a  complete  command  of  all  the 
Eastern  dialects  and  languages,  from  Burmah  to  Afghanistan,  to 
pass  scot-free  through  this  somewhat  dangerous  ordeal. 

I  had  not  the  word  of  the  night,  it  is  true — but  I  trusted  to 
good  fortune  for  that,  and  passed  boldly  out  of  the  fortress,  bearing 
the  flag  of  truce  as  before  ;  I  had  scarcely  passed  on  a  couple  of 
hundred  yards,  when  lo !  a  party  of  Indian  horsemen,  armed  like 
him  I  had  just  overcome,  trotted  towards  me.  One  was  leading 
a  noble  wliite  charger,  and  no  sooner  did  he  see  me  than,  dismount- 
ing from  his  own  horse,  and  giving  the  rein  to  a  companion,  he 
advanced  to  meet  me  with  the  charger ;  a  second  fellow  likewise 
dismounted  and  followed  the  first :  one  held  the  bridle  of  the  horse, 
while  the  other  (with  a  multitude  of  salaams,  aleikums,  and  other 
genuflections)  held  the  jewelled  stirrup,  and  kneeling,  waited  until  I 
should  mount. 

I  took  the  hint  at  once :  the  Indian  who  had  come  up  to  the 
fort  was  a  great  man — that  was  evident ;  I  walked  on  with  a 
majestic  air,  gathered  up  the  velvet  reins,  and  spnmg  into  the 
magnificent  high-peaked  saddle.  "  Buk,  buk,"  said  I.  "  It  is 
good.  In  the  name  of  the  forty-nine  Imaums,  let  us  ride  on." 
And  the  wliole  party  set  off  at  a  brisk  trot,  I  keeping  silence,  and 
thinking  with  no  little  trepidation  of  what  I  was  about  to  encounter. 

As  we  rode  along,  I  heard  two  of  the  men  commenting  upon  my 
unusual  silence  (for  I  suppose,  I — that  is  the  Indian — was  a  talka- 
tive oflicer).  "  The  lips  of  the  Bahawder  are  closed,"  said  one. 
"  Where  are  those  birds  of  Paradise,  his  long-tailed  words  1  they 
are  imprisoned  between  the  golden  bars  of  his  teeth  ! " 

"Kush,"  said  his  companion,  "be  quiet!  Bobbachy  Bahawder 
has  seen  the  dreadful  Feringhec,  Gahagan  Khan  Gujputi,  the  elephant- 
lord,  whose  sword  reaps  the  harvest  of  death ;  there  is  but  one 
champion  who  can  wear  the  papooshes  of  the  elephant-slayer — it 
is  Bobbachy  Bahawder  !  " 

"You  speak  truly,  Puneeree  Muckim,  the  Bahawder  ruminates 
on  the  words  of  the  unbeliever :  he  is  an  ostrich,  and  hatches  the 
eggs  of  his  thoughts." 

"  Bekhusm  !  on  my  nose  l^e  it !  May  the  young  birds,  liis 
actions,  be  strong  and  swift  in  flight." 

"  May  they  digest  iron ! "  said  Puneeree  Muckun,  who  was 
evidentlv  a  wag  in  his  wav. 


o 


MAJOR    GAHAGAN  155 

"  Oh^io  ! "  thought  I,  as  suddenly  the  light  flashed  upon  me. 
"  It  was,  then,  the  famous  Bobbachy  Bahawder  whom  I  overcame 
just  now  !  and  he  is  the  man  destined  to  stand  in  my  slippers,  is 
he  ?  "  and  I  was  at  that  very  moment  standing  in  his  own  !  Such 
are  the  chances  and  changes  that  fall  to  the  lot  of  the  soldier ! 

I  suppose  everybody — everybody  who  has  been  in  India,  at 
least — has  heard  the  name  of  Bobbachy  Bahawder :  it  is  derived 
from  the  two  Hindustanee  words — bobbachy,  general ;  bahawder, 
artilleryman.  He  had  entered  into  Holkars  service  in  the  latter 
capacity,  and  had,  by  his  merit  and  his  undaunted  bravery  in  action, 
attained  the  digiiity  of  the  peacock's  feather,  which  is  only  gi-antecl 
to  noblemen  of  the  first  class  ;  he  was  married,  moreover,  to  one  of 
Holkar's  innumerable  daughters ;  a  match  which,  according  to  the 
Chronique  Scandaleuse,  brought  more  of  honour  than  of  pleasure 
to  the  poor  Bobbachy.  Gallant  as  he  was  in  the  field,  it  was  said 
that  in  the  harem  he  was  the  veriest  craven  alive,  completely  subju- 
gated by  his  ugly  and  odious  wife.  In  all  matters  of  importance 
the  late  Bahawder  had  been  consulted  by  his  prince,  who  had,  as  it 
appears  (knowing  my  character,  and  not  caring  to  do  anything  rash 
in  his  attack  upon  so  formidable  an  enemy),  sent  forward  the  un- 
fortunate Pitan  to  reconnoitre  the  fort ;  he  was  to  have  done  yet 
more,  as  I  learned  from  the  r.ttendant  Puneeree  Muckun,  A\ho  was, 
I  soon  found  out,  an  old  favourite  with  the  Bobbachy — doubtless  on 
account  of  his  honesty  and  love  of  repartee. 

"The  Bahawder's  lips  are  closed,"  said  he  at  last,  trotting  up 
to  me  ;  "■  has  he  not  a  word  for  old  Puneeree  Muckun  ? " 

"  Bismillah,  mashallah,  barikallah,"  said  I ;  which  means,  "  My 
good  friend,  what  I  have  seen  is  not  wortli  the  trouble  of  relation, 
and  fills  my  bosom  with  the  darkest  forebodings." 

"You  could  not  then  see  the  Gujputi  alone,  and  stab  him  with 
your  dagger  1 " 

[Here  was  a  pretty  conspiracy  !]  "  No,  I  saw  him,  but  not 
alone ;  his  people  were  always  with  him." 

"  Hurrumzadeh  !  it  is  a  pity  ;  we  waited  but  the  sound  of  your 
jogree  (whistle),  and  straightway  would  have  galloped  up  and  seized 
upon  every  man,  woman,  and  child  in  the  fort :  however,  there  are 
Init  a  dozen  men  in  the  garrison,  and  they  have  not  ])rovision  for 
two  days — they  must  yield ;  and  then  hurrah  for  the  moon-faces  ! 
Llashallah  !  I  am  told  the  soldiers  who  first  get  in  are  to  have 
their  pick.  How  my  old  woman,  Rotee  Muckun,  will  be  surprised 
when  I  bring  home  a  couple  of  Feringhee  wives, — ha  !  ha  ! '' 

"  Fool !  "  said  I,  "  be  still ! — twelve  men  in  the  garrison  !  there 
are  twelve  hundred  !  Gahagan  himself  is  as  good  as  a  thousand 
men  ;  and  as  for  food,  I  saw  with  my  own  eyes  five  hundred  bullocks 


156   THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES  OF 

grazing  in  the  courtyard  as  I  entered."  This  was  a  bouncer,  I  con- 
fess ;  but  my  object  was  to  deceive  Puneerec  Muckun,  and  give  him 
as  high  a  notion  as  possible  of  the  capabilities  of  defence  which  the 
besieged  had. 

"  Pooch,  pooch,"  nuirmured  the  men ;  "  it  is  a  wonder  of  a 
fortress  :  we  shall  never  be  able  to  take  it  until  our  guns  come  up." 

There  was  hope  then  !  they  liad  no  battering-train.  Ere  this 
arrived,  I  trusted  that  Lord  Lake  would  hear  of  our  plight,  and 
march  down  to  rescue  us.  Thus  occupied  in  thought  and  conversa- 
tion, we  rode  on  until  the  advanced  sentinel  challenged  us,  when 
old  Puneeree  gave  the  word,  and  we  passed  on  into  the  centre  of 
Holkar's  camp. 

It  was  a  strange  —  a  stirring  sight!  The  camp-fires  were 
lighted ;  and  round  tliem — eating,  reposing,  talking,  looking  at  the 
merry  steps  of  the  dancing-girls,  or  listening  to  the  stories  of  some 
Dhol  Baut  (or  Indian  improvisatore) — were  thousands  of  dusky 
soldiery.  The  camels  and  horses  were  picketed  under  the  banyan- 
trees,  on  which  the  ripe  mango  fruit  was  growing,  and  offered  them 
an  excellent  food.  Towards  the  spot  which  the  golden  fish  and 
royal  purdahs,  floating  in  the  wind,  designated  as  the  tent  of  Holkar, 
led  an  immense  avenue — of  elephants  !  the  finest  street,  indeed,  I 
ever  saw.  Each  of  the  monstrous  animals  had  a  castle  on  its  back, 
armed  with  Blauritanian  archers  and  the  celebrated  Persian  match- 
lock-men :  it  was  the  feeding  time  of  these  royal  brutes,  and  the 
grooms  were  observed  bringing  immense  toff'ungs,  or  baskets,  filled 
with  pine-apples,  plantains,  bananas,  Indian  corn,  and  cocoa-nuts, 
which  grow  luxuriantly  at  all  seasons  of  the  year.  We  passed  down 
this  extraordinary  avenue — no  less  than  three  hundred  and  eighty- 
eiglit  tails  did  I  count  on  each  side — each  tail  appertaining  to  an 
elephant  twenty-five  feet  high — each  elephant  having  a  two-storied 
castle  on  its  back — each  castle  containing  sleeping  and  eating  rooms 
for  the  twelve  men  that  formed  its  garrison,  and  were  keeping  watch 
on  the  roof — eacli  ro(jf  bearing  a  flagstaft"  twenty  feet  long  on  its 
top,  the  crescent  glittering  with  a  thousand  gems,  and  round  it  the 
imperial  standard, — each  standard  of  silk  velvet  and  cloth-of-gold, 
bearing  the  well-known  device  of  Holkar,  argent  an  or  gules,  between 
a  sinople  of  the  first,  a  chevron  truncated,  wavy.  I  took  nine  of 
these  myself  in  the  course  of  a  very  short  time  after,  and  shall  be 
happy,  when  I  come  to  England,  to  sliow  them  to  any  gentleman 
who  has  a  curiosity  that  way.  Through  this  gorgeous  scene  our 
little  cavalcade  passed,  and  at  last  we  ari'ived  at  the  quarters  occu- 
pied by  Holkar. 

Tliat  celebrated  chieftain's  tents  and  followers  were  gathered 
round  one  of  the  British  bungalows  which  liad  escaped  the  flames^ 


MAJOR    GAHAGAN  157 

and  wliich  he  occupied  during  the  siege.  Wiien  I  entered  the  hirge 
room  where  he  sat,  I  found  hiiu  in  the  midst  of  a  council  of  war ; 
his  chief  generals  and  viziers  seated  round  liim,  cacli  smoking  his 
hookah,  as  is  the  common  way  with  these  black  fellows,  before,  at, 
and  after  breakfast,  dinner,  supj)er,  and  bedtime.  There  was  such 
a  cloud  raised  by  their  smoke  you  could  hardly  see  a  yard  before 
you — another  piece  of  good-luck  for  me — as  it  diminisiied  the  chances 
of  my  detection.  When,  with  the  ordinary  ceremonies,  the  kitmat- 
gars  and  consomahs  had  explained  to  the  prince  that  Bobbachy 
Bahawder,  the  right  eye  of  the  Sun  of  the  Universe  (as  the  ignorant 
heathens  called  me),  had  arrived  from  his  mission,  Holkar  imme- 
diately summoned  me  to  the  maidaun,  or  elevated  ])latform,  on 
which  he  was  seated  in  a  luxurious  easy-chair,  and  I,  instantly 
taking  off  my  slippers,  foiling  on  my  knees,  and  beating  my  head 
against  tlie  ground  ninety-nine  times,  proceeded,  still  on  my  knees, 
a  hundred  and  twenty  feet  through  the  room,  and  then  up  the 
twenty  steps  which  led  to  his  maidaun — a  silly,  painful,  and  dis- 
gusting ceremony,  which  can  only  be  considered  as  a  relic  of 
barbarian  darkness,  which  tears  the  knees  and  shins  to  pieces,  let 
alone  the  j^antaloons.  I  recommend  anybody  who  goes  to  India, 
wuth  the  |)rosi)ect  of  entering  the  service  of  the  native  rajahs,  to 
recollect  my  advice,  and  have  them  well  wadded. 

Well,  the  right  eye  of  the  Sun  of  the  Universe  scrambled  as 
w^ell  as  he  could  up  the  stei)s  of  the  maidaun  (on  which,  in  rows, 
smoking,  as  I  have  said,  the  musnuds  or  general  officers  were 
seated),  and  I  arrived  witliin  speaking  distance  of  Holkar,  who 
instantly  asked  me  the  success  of  my  mission.  The  im])etuous  old 
man  thereon  poured  out  a  multitude  of  questions  :  "  How  many 
men  are  there  in  the  fort  % "'  said  lie ;  "  how  many  women  %  Is  it 
victualled  %  have  they  anununition  %  "  Did  you  see  Gahagan  Sahib, 
the  commander  \  did  you  kill  him  %  " 

All  these  questions  Jeswunt  Row  Holkar  ])uffed  out  with  so 
many  whifi's  of  tobacco. 

Taking  a  chillum  myself,  and  raising  about  me  such  a  cloud 
that,  u})on  my  honour  as  a  gentleman,  no  man  at  three  yards' 
distance  could  perceive  anything  of  me  excei)t  the  pillar  of  smoke 
in  which  I  was  encompassed,  I  told  Holkar,  in  Oriental  language 
of  course,  the  best  tale  I  could  with  regard  to  the  fort. 

"  Sir,"  said  I,  "  to  answer  your  last  question  first — that  dreadful 
Guj])uti  I  have  seen — and  he  is  alive :  he  is  eight  feet,  nearly,  in 
height ;  he  can  eat  a  bullock  daily  (of  which  he  has  seven  hundred 
at  present  in  the  compound,  and  swears  that  during  the  siege  he 
will  content  himself  with  only  three  a  week)  :  he  has  lost,  in  battle, 
his  left  eye ;  and  what  is  the  consequence  ?  0  Ram  Gunge " 
13 


158   THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES  OF 

(0  thou-with-the-eye-as-bright-as-moming  and-with-beard-as-black-as- 
iiight),  "  Goliah  Gujputi — never  sleeps  !  " 

"  Ah,  you  Ghorumsaug  (you  thief  of  the  world),"  said  the  Prince 
Vizier,  Saadut  Alee  Beg  Bimbukchee — "  it's  joking  you  are ; " — 
and  there  was  a  universal  buzz  through  tlie  room  at  the  announce- 
ment of  this  bouncer. 

"  By  the  hundred  and  eleven  incarnations  of  Vishnu,"  said  I 
solemnly  (an  oath  which  no  Indian  was  ever  known  to  break),  "I 
swear  that  so  it  is  :  so  at  least  he  told  me,  and  I  have  good  cause 
to  know  his  power.  Gujputi  is  an  enchanter :  he  is  leagued  with 
devils ;  he  is  invulnerable.  Look,"  said  I,  unsheathing  my  dagger 
— and  every  eye  turned  instantly  towards  me — "  thrice  did  I  stab 
him  with  this  steel — in  the  back,  once — twice  right  tlirough  the 
heart ;  but  he  only  laughed  me  to  scorn,  and  bade  me  tell  Holkar 
that  the  steel  was  not  yet  forged  which  was  to  inflict  an  injury 
upon  him." 

I  never  saw  a  man  in  such  a  rage  as  Holkar  was  when  I  gave 
him  tliis  somewluvt  imprudent  message. 

"  Ah,  lily-livered  rogue  !  "  shouted  he  out  to  me,  "  milk-blooded 
unbeliever  !  pale-faced  miscreant !  lives  he  after  insulting  thy  master 
in  tliy  i)resencc  1  In  the  name  of  the  Prophet,  I  sjjit  on  thee,  defy 
thee,  abhor  thee,  degrade  thee !  Take  that,  thou  liar  of  the 
universe  !  and  that — and  that — and  that !  " 

Such  are  the  frightful  excesses  of  barbaric  minds  !  everv  time 
this  old  man  said,  "Take  that,"  he  flung  some  article  near  him  at 
the  head  of  the  undaunted  Gahagan — his  dagger,  his  sword,  his 
carbine,  his  richly  ornamented  pistols,  his  turban  covered  with 
jewels,  worth  a  hundred  tliousand  croros  of  rupees — finally,  his 
hookah,  snake  mouthi)icce,  silver-bell,  chillum  and  all — which  went 
hissing  over  my  liead,  and  flattening  into  a  jelly  the  nose  of  the 
Grand  Vizier. 

"  Yock  muzzee !  my  nose  is  ofl:","  said  the  old  man  mildly. 
"  Will  you  have  my  life,  0  Holkar  1  it  is  thine  likewise  !  "  and  no 
other  word  of  complaint  escaped  his  lips. 

Of  all  these  missiles,  though  a  pistol  and  carbine  had  gone  off 
as  the  ferocious  Indian  flung  them  at  my  head,  and  the  naked 
scimitar,  fiercely  but  unadroitly  thrown,  had  lopped  off  the  limbs  of 
one  or  two  of  the  nuisnuds  as  they  sat  trembling  on  their  omrahs, 
yet,  strange  to  say,  not  a  single  weapon  had  hurt  me.  When  the 
hubbub  ceased,  and  the  unlucky  wretches  wlio  liad  been  the  \ictims 
of  this  fit  of  rage  had  been  removed,  Holkar's  good-humour  some- 
what returned,  and  he  allowed  me  to  continue  my  account  of  the 
fort ;  wliich  I  did,  not  taking  tlie  sliglitest  notice  of  his  burst  of 
impatience  :  as  indeed  it  would  have  been  the  height  of  impolite- 


MAJOR    GAHAGAN  159 

ness  to  have  done,   for  such  accidents  happened  many  times  in 
the  day. 

"  It  is  well  that  the  Bobbachy  has  returned,"  snuffled  out  tlic 
poor  Grand  Vizier,  after  I  had  explained  to  the  Council  tlie  extra- 
ordinary means  of  defence  possessed  by  the  garrison.  "  Your  star 
is  bright,  0  Bahawaler !  for  this  very  night  we  liad  resolved  ujiim 
an  escalade  of  the  fort,  and  we  had  sworn  to  put  every  one  of  the 
infidel  garrison  to  the  edge  of  the  sword." 

"  But  you  have  no  battering  train,"  said  I. 

"  Bah  !  we  have  a  couple  of  ninety-six  pounders,  quite  sufficient 
to  blow  the  gates  open ;  and  then,  hey  for  a  charge ! "  said  Loll 
Mahommed,  a  general  of  cavalry,  who  was  a  rival  of  Bobbachy's, 
and  contradicted,  therefore,  every  word  I  said.  "  In  the  name  of 
Juggernaut,  wliy  wait  for  the  heavy  artillery  1  Have  we  not 
swords  1  Have  we  not  hearts  1  Mashallah !  Let  cravens  stay 
with  Bobbachy,  all  true  men  will  follow  Loll  Mahommed  !  Allah- 
humdillah,  Bismillah,  Barikallah '? "  *  and  drawing  his  scimitar,  he 
waved  it  over  his  head,  and  shouted  out  his  cry  of  battle.  It  was 
repeated  by  many  of  the  otiaer  omrahs ;  the  sound  of  tlieir  cheers 
was  carried  into  the  cam]),  and  caught  u])  by  the  men ;  the  camels 
began  to  cry,  the  horses  to  prance  and  neigh,  the  eight  hundred 
elephants  set  nj)  a  scream,  the  trumpeters  and  drummers  clanged 
away  at  their  instruments.  I  never  heard  such  a  din  before  or 
after.  How  I  trembled  for  my  little  garrison  when  I  heard  the 
enthusiastic  cries  of  this  innumerable  host ! 

There  was  but  one  way  for  it.  "  Sir,"  said  I,  addressing  Holkar, 
"go  out  to-night,  and  you  go  to  certain  death.  Loll  Mahommed 
has  not  seen  the  fort  as  I  have.  Pass  the  gate  if  you  please,  and 
for  what  1  to  fall  before  the  fire  of  a  hundred  pieces  of  artillery  ;  to 
storm  another  gate,  and  then  another,  and  then  to  be  blown  up,  with 
Gahagan's  garrison  in  the  citadel.  Wlio  talks  of  courage?  Were 
I  not  in  your  august  presence,  0  star  of  the  faithful,  I  would  croj) 
Loll  Mahommed's  nose  from  his  face,  and  wear  his  ears  as  an 
ornament  in  my  own  pugree  !  Who  is  there  here  that  knows  udt 
the  difterence  between  yonder  yellow-skinned  coward  and  Gahagan 
Khan  Guj — I  mean  Bobbachy  Bahawder?  I  am  ready  to  fight  one, 
two,  three,  or  twenty  of  them,  at  broadsword,  small-sword,  single- 
stick, with  fists  if  you  please.  By  the  holy  piper,  fighting  is  like 
mate  and  dthrink  to  Ga — to  Bo])bachy,  I  mane — whoop  !  come  on, 
you  diwle,  and  I'll  bate  the  skin  off  your  ugly  bones." 

This  speech  had  very  nearly  proved  fatal  to  me,  for,  when  I  am 

*  The  Major  has  put  tho  most  approved  language  into  the  inouth'i  of  his 
Indian  characters.  Bismillah,  Barikallah,  and  so  on,  according  to  tlio  novelists, 
form  the  very  essence  of  Eastern  conversation.    ■ 


i6o   THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES  OF 

agitated,  I  involuntarily  adopt  some  of  the  phraseology  peculiar  to 
my  own  country  ;  which  is  so  uueastern,  that,  had  there  been  any 
suspicion  as  to  my  real  character,  detection  must  indubitably  have 
ensued.  As  it  was,  Holkar  perceived  nothing,  but  instantaneously 
stopped  the  dispute.  Loll  Mahommed,  however,  evidently  suspected 
something  ;  for,  as  Holkar,  with  a  voice  of  thunder,  shouted  out ; 
"  Tomasha  (silence),"  Loll  sprang  forward  and  gasped  out — 

"  My  lord  !  my  lord  !  this  is  not  Bob " 

But  he  could  sav  no  more.  "  Gag  the  slave  ! "  screamed  out 
Holkar,  stamping  with  fury ;  and  a  turban  was  instantly  twisted 
round  the  poor  devil's  jaws.  "  Ho,  fiu'oshes  !  carry  out  Loll 
Mahommod  Khan,  give  him  a  hundred  dozen  on  the  soles  of  his 
feet,  set  him  ujton  a  white  donkey,  and  carry  him  round  the  camii, 
with  an  inscription  before  him  :  *  This  is  the  way  that  Holkar 
rewards  the  talkative.' " 

I  breathed  again  ;  and  ever  as  I  heard  each  whack  of  the  bamboo 
falling  on  Loll  ]\Ialionimcd's  feet,  I  felt  peace  returning  to  my  mind, 
and  thanked  my  stars  that  I  was  delivered  of  this  danger. 

"  Vizier,"  said  Holkar,  wlio  enjoyed  LoU's  roars  amazingly,  "  I 
owe  you  a  reparation  for  your  nose :  kiss  the  hand  of  your  prince, 

0  Saadut  Alee  Beg  Bimbukchee !  be  from  this  day  forth  Zoheir 
u  Dowlut !  " 

The  good  old  man's  eyes  filled  with  tears.  "I  can  bear  thy 
severity,  O  Prince,"  said  he  ;  "  I  cannot  bear  thy  love.  Was  it 
not  an  honour  that  your  Highness  did  me  just  now  when  you  con- 
descended to  pass  over  the  bridge  of  your  slave's  nose  ? " 

The  phrase  was  by  all  voices  pronounced  to  be  very  poetical. 
The  Vizier  retired,  cro\\'ned  with  hLs  new  honours,  to  bed.  Holkar 
was  in  high  good-humour. 

"  Bobbachy,"  said  he,  "  thou,  too,  must  pardon  mc.     A  2'>ropos, 

1  have  news  for  thee.  Your  wife,  the  incomparable  Puttee  Rooge '' 
(white  and  red  rose),  "  has  arrived  in  camp." 

"  INIy  WIFE,  my  lord  !  "  said  I,  aghast. 

"  Our  daughter,  the  light  of  thine  eyes  !  Go,  my  son ;  I  see 
thou  art  wild  with  joy.  The  Princess's  tents  are  set  up  close  by 
mine,  and  I  know  thou  longest  to  join  her." 

My  wife  1    Here  was  a  complication  truly  ! 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  ISSUE  OF  MY  INTERVIEW  WITH  MY  WIFE 

1  FOUND  Funeeree  Miickun,  with  the  rest  of  my  attendants, 
waiting  at  the  gate,  and  they  immediately  conducted  me  to 
my  own  tents  in  the  neighbourhood.  I  have  been  in  many 
dangerous  predicaments  before  that  time  and  since,  but  I  don't  care 
to  deny  that  I  felt  in  the  present  instance  such  a  throlibing  of  the 
heart  as  I  never  have  experienced  when  leading  a  forlorn  hope,  or 
marching  up  to  a  battery. 

As  soon  as  I  entered  the  tents  a  host  of  menials  sprang  forward, 
some  to  ease  me  of  my  armour,  some  to  offer  me  refreshments,  some 
with  hookahs,  attar  of  roses  (in  gTcat  quart  bottles),  and  the  thou- 
sand delicacies  of  Eastern  life.  I  motioned  them  away.  "  I  will 
wear  my  armour,"  said  I ;  "  I  shall  go  forth  to-niglit.  Carry  my 
duty  to  the  princess,  and  say  I  grieve  that  to-night  I  have  not  the 
time  to  see  her.  Spread  me  a  couch  here,  and  bring  me  supjier 
here :  a  jar  of  Fersian  wine  well  cooled,  a  lamb  stuffed  with 
pistachio-nuts,  a  pillaw  of  a  couple  of  turkeys,  a  curried  kid — any- 
thing. Begone  !  Give  me  a  pipe ;  leave  me  alone,  and  tell  me 
when  the  meal  is  ready." 

I  thought  by  these  means  to  put  off  the  foir  Futtee  Rooge,  and 
hoped  to  be  able  to  escape  without  subjecting  myself  to  the 
examination  of  her  curious  eyes.  After  smoking  for  a  while,  an 
attendant  came  to  tell  me  that  my  supper  was  prepared  in  tlie 
inner  apartment  of  the  tent  (I  suppose  that  the  reader,  if  he  be 
possessed  of  the  commonest  intelligence,  knows  that  the  tents  of 
the  Indian  grandees  are  made  of  the  finest  Cashmere  shawls,  and 
contain  a  dozen  rooms  at  least,  with  carpets,  chinmeys,  and  sash- 
windows  complete).  I  entered,  I  say,  into  an  inner  chamber,  and 
there  began  with  my  fingers  to  devour  my  meal  in  the  Oriental 
fashion,  taking,  every  now  and  then,  a  pull  from  the  wine-jar,  which 
was  cooling  deliciously  in  another  jar  of  snow. 

I  was  just  in  the  act  of  despatching  the  last  morsel  of  a  most 
savoury  stewed  lamb  and  rice,  which  had  formed  my  meal,  when 
I  heard  a  scuflle  of  feet,  a  shrill  clatter  of  female  voices,  and,  the 
curtain  being  flung  open,  in  marched  a  lady  accompanied  by  twelve 


i62   THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES  OF 

slaves,  with  moon  faces  and  slim  waists,  lovely  as  the  hoiiris  in 
Paradise. 

The  lady  herself,  to  do  her  justice,  was  as  gi-eat  a  contrast  to 
her  attendants  as  could  possibly  be  :  she  was  crooked,  old,  of  the 
complexion  of  molasses,  and  rendered  a  thousand  times  more  ugly 
by  the  tawdry  dress  and  the  blazing  jewels  with  which  she  was 
covered.  A  line  of  yellow  chalk  drawn  from  her  forehead  to  the 
tip  of  her  nose  (which  was  further  ornamented  by  an  immense 
glittering  nose-ring),  her  eyelids  painted  briglit  red,  and  a  large 
dab  of  the  same  colour  on  her  chin,  showed  she  was  not  of  the 
Mussulman,  but  the  Brahmin  faith — and  of  a  very  liigh  caste  :  you 
could  see  that  by  her  eyes.  My  mind  was  instantaneously  made 
up  as  to  my  line  of  action. 

The  male  attendants  had  of  course  quitted  the  apartment,  as 
they  lieanl  the  well-known  sound  of  her  voice.  It  would  have 
been  death  to  them  to  have  rcmaineil  and  looked  in  her  face.  The 
females  ranged  themselves  round  their  mistress,  as  she  squatted 
down  opjiosite  to  me. 

"  And  is  this,"  said  she,  "  a  welcome,  0  Khan !  after  six 
months'  absence,  for  the  most  \uifortunate  and  loving  Avife  in  all 
the  world  1  Is  this  lamb,  0  glutton  !  half  so  tender  as  thy  spouse  1 
Is  tliis  wine,  0  sot !  half  so  sweet  as  her  looks  1 " 

I  saw  the  storm  Avas  brewing — her  slaves,  to  whom  she  tiu-ned, 
kept  up  a  kind  of  chords  : — 

"  Oil,  the  faithless  one ! "  cried  they,  "  Oh,  the  rascal,  the 
false  one,  wlio  has  no  eye  for  beauty,  and  no  heart  for  love,  like 
the  Khanuni's  1 " 

"  A  lamb  is  not  so  sweet  as  love,"  said  I  gravely ;  "  but  a  lamb 
has  a  good  temper :  a  wine-cup  is  not  so  intoxicating  as  a  woman 
— but  a  wine-cup  has  no  tourfue,  0  Khanum  Gee  ! "  and  again  I 
dipped  my  nose  in  the  soul-refreshing  jar. 

The  sweet  Puttee  Rooge  was  not,  however,  to  be  put  off  by  my 
repartees ;  she  and  her  maidens  recommenced  their  chorus,  and 
chattered  and  stormed  until  I  lost  all  patience. 

"Retire,  fiiends,"  said  I,  "and  leave  me  in  peace." 

"  Stir,  on  your  peril !  "  cried  tlic  Khamun. 

So,  seeing  there  was  no  help  for  it  but  violence,  I  drew  out  my 
pistols,  cocked  them,  and  said,  "  0  houris  !  these  pistols  contain 
each  two  balls  :  the  daughter  of  Holkar  bears  a  sacred  life  for  me — 
but  for  you  ! — by  all  the  saints  of  Hindustan,  four  of  ye  shall  die  if 
ye  stay  a  moment  longer  in  my  presence  1 "  Tliis  was  enough  ;  the 
ladies  gave  a  shriek,  and  skunied  out  of  the  apartment  like  a  covey 
of  partridges  on  the  wing. 

Now,    then,   was   the   time   for   action.     My   wife,    or   rathci 


MAJOR    GAHAGAN  163 

Bobbachy'.s  Avife,  sat  still,  a  little  flurried  by  the  unusual  ferocity 
which  her  lord  had  displayed  in  her  presence.  I  seized  her  hand, 
and,  gripping  it  close,  whispered  in  her  ear,  to  which  I  i)ut  the 
other  pistol : — "  0  Khanuni,  listen  and  scream  not ;  the  moment 
you  scream,  you  die  ! "  She  was  completely  beaten  :  she  turned 
as  pale  as  a  woman  could  in  her  situation,  and  said,  "  Speak, 
Bobbachy  Bahawder,  I  am  dumb." 

"Woman,"  said  I,  taking  off  my  helmet,  and  removing  the 
chain  cape  which  had  covered  almost  the  Avhole  of  my  face — "  /  am 
not  thy  Imshand — I  am  the  slayer  of  elephants,  the  world-renowned 
Gahagan ! " 

As  I  said  this,  and  as  the  long  ringlets  of  red  hair  fell  over  my 
shoulders  (contrasting  strangely  with  my  dyed  face  and  beard),  I 
formed  one  of  the  finest  pictures  that  can  possibly  be  conceived,  and 
I  recommend  it  as  a  subject  to  Mr.  Heath,  for  the  next  "  Book  of 
Beauty." 

"  Wretch  !  "  said  she,  "  what  wouldst  thou  % " 

"  You  black-faced  fiend,"  said  I,  "  raise  but  your  voice,  and  you 
are  dead  ! " 

"  And  afterwards,"  said  she,  "  do  you  suppose  that  you  can 
escape?  The  torments  of  hell  arc  not  so  terrible  as  the  tortures 
that  Holkar  will  invent  fn-  thee." 

"  Tortures,  madam  % "  answered  I,  coolly.  "  Fiddlesticks  !  You 
will  neither  betray  me,  nor  will  I  be  put  to  the  torture :  on  the 
contrary,  you  will  give  me  your  best  jewels  and  facilitate  my  escape 
to  the  fort.  Don't  grind  your  teeth  and  swear  at  me.  Listen, 
madam  :  you  know  this  dress  and  these  arms ; — they  are  the  arms 
of  your  husband,  Bobbachy  Bahawder — my  jyrisoner.  He  now  lies 
in  yonder  fort,  and  if  I  do  not  return  before  daylight,  at  sunrise  he 
dies:  and  then,  when  they  send  his  corpse  back  to  Holkar,  what 
will  you,  his  ividow,  do  1 " 

"  Oh  !  "  said  she,  shuddering,  "spare  me,  spare  me  !  " 

"  I'll  tell  you  what  you  Avill  do.  You  will  have  the  pleasure 
of  dyint'  along  with  him — of  beimy  roasted,  madam :  an  agonising 
death,  from  which  your  father  cannot  save  you,  to  which  he  will  be 
the  first  man  to  condemn  and  conduct  you.  Ha !  I  see  we  under- 
stand each  other,  and  you  will  give  me  over  the  cash-box  and  jewels." 
And  so  saying  I  threw  myself  back  with  the  calmest  air  imaginable, 
fiinging  the  pistols  over  to  her.  "  Light  me  a  pipe,  my  love,"  said 
I,  "and  then  go  and  hand  me  over  the  dollars:  do  you  hearT' 
You  see  I  had  her  in  my  power — up  a  tree,  as  the  Americans  say, 
and  she  very  humbly  lighted  my  pipe  for  me,  and  then  departed  for 
the  goods  I  spoke  about. 

What  a  thing  is  luck  !     If  Loll  Mahom'med  had  not  been  made 


164   THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES  OF 

to  take  that  ride  round  the  camp,  I  should  infallibly  have  been 
lost. 

My  supper,  my  quarrel  with  the  princess,  and  my  pipe  after- 
wards, had  occupied  a  couple  of  hours  of  my  time.  The  princess 
returned  from  her  quest,  and  brought  with  her  the  box,  containing 
valuables  to  the  amount  of  about  three  millions  sterling.  (I  was 
cheated  of  them  afterwards,  but  have  the  box  still,  a  plain  deal 
one.)  I  was  just  about  to  take  my  departure,  when  a  tremendous 
knocking,  shouting,  and  screaming  was  heard  at  the  entrance  of 
the  tent.  It  was  Holkar  himself,  accompanied  by  that  cursed  Loll 
Mahommed,  who,  after  his  punishment,  found  his  master  restored 
to  good-humour,  and  had  communicated  to  him  his  firm  con^-iction 
that  I  was  an  impostor. 

"  Ho,  Begum  ! "'  shouted  he,  in  the  ante-room  (for  he  and  his 
people  could  not  enter  the  women's  a{)artments),  "  speak,  0  my 
daughter  !  is  your  husband  returned  1 '' 

"  Speak,  madam,"  said  I,  "  or  remember  the  roasting." 

"  He  is,  papa,"'  said  the  Begiun. 

"  Are  you  sure  1  Ho  !  ho  !  ho  !  "  (the  old  ruffian  was  laughing 
outside) — "  are  you  sure  it  is  ? — Ha  !  aha  ! — he-e-e  !  " 

"  Indeed  it  is  he,  and  no  other.  I  pray  you,  father,  to  go,  and 
to  pass  no  more  such  shameless  jests  on  your  daughter.  Have  I 
ever  seen  the  face  of  any  other  man  1 "  And  hereat  she  began  to 
weep  a.s  if  her  heart  would  break — the  deceitful  minx  ! 

Holkar's  laugh  w;is  insti\ntly  turned  to  fury,  "  Oh,  you  liar 
and  eternal  thief ! "  said  he,  turning  round  (as  I  presume,  for  I 
could  only  hear)  to  Loll  Mahommed,  "to  make  yoiu-  prince  eat 
sucli  miinstrous  dirt  as  this  !  Furoshos,  .seize  this  man.  I  dismiss 
him  from  my  service,  I  degrade  him  from  his  rank,  I  api)ropriate  to 
myself  all  his  i)roperty  :  and  hark  ye,  furoshes,  give  him  a  hun- 
dred DOZEN  MORE  !  " 

Again  I  heard  the  whacks  of  the  bamboos,  and  peace  flowed  into 
my  soul, 

•  •  •  •  •         .  •  • 

Just  as  morn  begnn  to  break,  two  figtires  were  seen  to  approach 
the  Uttle  fortress  of  Futtytrhur :  one  was  a  woman  wrapped  closely 
in  a  veil ;  the  otlier  a  warrior,  remarkable  for  the  size  and  manly 
beauty  of  his  form,  who  carried  in  his  hand  a  deal  box  of  con- 
siderable size.  The  warrior  at  the  gate  gave  the  word  and  was 
admitted  ;  the  woman  returned  slowly  to  the  Indian  camp.  Her 
name  was  Puttee  Rooge ;  his  was — 

G,  O'G,  G.,  M.H.E.I.C.S.,  CI.H.A 


CHAPTER  VI 

FAMINE  IN   THE  GARRISON 

THUS  my  dangers  for  the  iiiglit  being  overcome,  I  hastened 
with  my  precious  box  into  my  own  apartment,  which  com- 
mmiicated  with  another,  where  I  had  left  my  prisoner,  with 
a  guard  to  report  if  he  sliould  recover,  and  to  prevent  liis  escape. 
My  servant,  Ghorumsaug,  was  one  of  the  guard.  I  called  him,  and 
the  fellow  came,  looking  very  much  confused  and  frighteneil,  as  it 
seemed,  at  my  ai)|)earance. 

"Why,  Ghorumsaug,"  said  I,  "Avhat  makes  t)iee  look  so  jjale, 
fellow?"  (He  was  as  white  as  a  sheet.)  "It  is  thy  master,  dost 
thou  not  remember  him  ? "  The  man  had  seen  me  dress  myself  in 
the  Pitan's  clothes,  but  was  not  present  when  I  had  blacked  my  face 
and  beard  in  the  manner  I  have  described. 

"  0  Bramah,  Vishnu,  and  Mahomet ! "  cried  the  faithful  fellow, 
"  and  do  I  see  my  dear  master  disguised  in  this  way  ?  For  Heaven's 
sake  let  me  rid  you  of  this  odious  black  paint ;  for  what  will  the 
ladies  say  in  the  ballroom  if  the  l)eautiful  Feringhee  should  appear 
amongst  them  with  his  roses  turned  into  coal  1 " 

I  am  still  one  of  the  finest  men  in  Europe,  and  at  the  time  of 
w^hich  I  write,  when  only  two-and-twenty,  I  confess  I  was  a  little 
vain  of  my  personal  appearance,  and  not  very  willing  to  appear 
before  my  dear  Belinda  disguised  like  a  blackamoor.  I  allowed 
Ghorumsaug  to  divest  me  of  the  heathenish  armour  and  habiliments 
which  I  wore ;  and  having,  with  a  world  of  scrubl)ing  and  trouble, 
divested  my  face  and  beard  of  their  Ijlack  tinge,  I  put  on  my  own 
becoming  uniform,  and  hastened  to  wait  on  the  ladies ;  hastened,  I 
say, — although  delayed  would  have  been  the  ]")etter  word,  for  the 
operation  of  bleaching  lasted  at  least  two  hours. 

"  How  is  the  prisoner,  Ghorumsaug  1 "  said  I,  before  leaving  my 
apartment. 

"He  has  recovered  from  the  blow  which  the  Lion  dealt  him:  two 
men  and  myself  watch  over  him  ;  and  Macgillicuddy  Sahib  (thesecoud  in 
command)  has  just  been  the  rounds,  and  has  seen  that  all  was  secure." 

I  bade  Ghorumsaug  lielp  me  to  i)ut  away  my  chest  of  treasure 
(my  exultation  in  taking  it  was   so  gi-eat   that   I  could  not  help 


166   THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES  OF 

informing  him  of  its  contents) ;  and  this  done,  I  despatched  him  to 
his  post  near  the  prisoner,  while  I  i)rcpared  to  sally  forth  and  pay 
my  respects  to  the  fair  creatures  mider  my  protection.  "  What 
good  after  all  have  I  done,"  thought  I  to  myself,  "  in  this  expedition 
which  I  had  so  rashly  undertaken?"  I  had  seen  the  renowned 
Holkar;  I  had  been  in  the  heart  of  Ins  camp;  I  knew  the  dis- 
position of  his  troops,  that  there  were  eleven  thousand  of  them,  and 
that  he  only  waited  for  his  guns  to  make  a  regidar  attack  on  the 
fort.  I  had  seen  Puttee  Rooge;  I  had  robbed  her  (I  say  robbed 
her,  and  I  don't  care  Avhat  the  reader  or  any  other  man  may  think 
of  the  act)  of  a  deal  bi)x,  containing  jewels  to  the  amount  of  three 
millions  sterling,  the  property  of  herself  and  husband. 

Tliree  millions  in  inoney  and  jewels  !  And  what  the  deuce  were 
money  and  jewels  to  me  or  to  my  poor  garrison  ?  Could  my  adorable 
Miss  Bulcher  eat  a  fricassee  of  diamonds,  or,  Cleopatra-like,  melt 
down  pearls  to  lier  tea  1  Could  I,  careless  as  I  am  about  food,  with 
a  stomach  that  would  digest  anything — (once,  in  Spain,  I  ate  the  leg 
of  a  horse  during  a  famine,  and  was  so  eager  to  swallow  this  morsel 
that  I  bolted  the  shoe,  as  well  as  the  hoof,  and  never  felt  the  slightest 
inconvenience  from  either) — could  I,  I  say,  expect  to  live  long  and 
well  upon  a  ragout  of  rupees,  or  a  dish  of  stewed  emeralds  and 
rubies?  Witli  all  tlie  wealth  of  Croesus  before  me  I  felt  melancholy; 
and  would  have  paid  cheerfully  its  weight  in  carats  for  a  good  honest 
round  of  boiled  beef.  Wealth,  wealth,  what  art  thou?  What  is  gold? 
— Soft  metal.  What  are  diamonds? — Shining  tinsel.  The  great 
wealth-winners,  the  only  fame-achievers,  the  sole  objects  worthy  of 
a  soldier's  consideration,  arc  beefsteaks,  guni)owder,  and  cold  iron. 

The  two  latter  means  of  competency  we  possessed ;  I  had  in  my 
own  apartments  a  small  store  of  gunpowder  (keeping  it  under  my 
own  bed,  with  a  candle  burning  for  fear  of  accidents) ;  I  had  14 
pieces  of  artillery  (4  long  48's  and  4  carronades,  5  howitzers,  and  a 
long  brass  mortar,  for  grai)e,  Avhich  I  had  taken  myself  at  the  battle 
of  Assaye),  and  muskets  for  ten  times  my  force.  My  garrison,  as 
I  have  told  the  reader  in  a  jirevious  number,  consisted  of  40  men, 
two  chajilains,  and  a  surgeon ;  add  to  these  my  guests,  83  in 
number,  of  whom  nine  only  were  gentlemen  (in  tights,  powder, 
pigtails,  and  silk  stockings,  who  liad  come  out  merely  for  a  dance, 
and  found  themselves  in  for  a  siege).     Such  were  our  munbers  : — 

Troops  and  artillerymen 40 

Ladies 74 

Other  non-combatants 11 

Major-General  O'G.  Gahagan     .     .    1,000 

1,125 


I 


MAJOR    GAHAGAN  167 

I  count  myself  good  for  a  thousand,  for  so  I  was  regularly  rated 
in  the  army  :  witli  this  great  benefit  to  it,  that  I  only  consumed  as 
much  as  an  ordinary  mortal.  We  were  then,  as  far  as  the  victuals 
went,  126  mouths;  as  combatants  we  numbered,  1,040  gallant  men, 
with  12  guns  and  a  fort,  against  Holkar  and  his  12,000.  No  such 
alarming  odds,  if 

If  I — ay,  there  was  the  rub — ?/ we  had  shot,  as  well  as  powder 
for  our  guns ;  if  we  had  not  only  men  but  meat.  Of  the  former 
commodity  we  had  only  three  rounds  for  each  piece.  Of  the  latter, 
upon  my  sacred  honour,  to  feed  126  souls,  we  had  but 

Two  drumsticks  of  fowls,  and  a  bone  of  ham. 
Fourteen  Ijottles  of  ginger-beer. 
Of  soda-water,  four  ditto. 
'Two  bottles  of  fine  Spanish  olives. 
Raspberry  cream — tlie  remainder  of  two  dishes. 
Seven  macaroons,  lying  in  tlje  puddle  of  a  demolished  trifle. 
Half  a  drum  of  best  Turkev  figs. 
Some  bits  of  broken  bread ;  two  Dutch  cheeses  (whole)  ;  the 

crust  of  an  old  Stilton ;  and  about  an  ounce  of  almonds 

and  raisins. 
Three  ham-sandwiches,  and   a  pot  of  currant-jelly,   and   197 

bottles    of  brandy,    rum,   madeira,   jjale   ale    (my   private 

stock) ;  a   couple  of  hard  eggs  for  a  salad,  and  a  flask  of 

Florence  oil. 

This  was  the  provision  for  tlie  whole  garrison  !  The  men  after 
supper  had  seized  upon  the  relics  of  the  repast,  as  they  were  carried 
ott"  from  the  table ;  and  these  were  the  miserable  remnants  I  found 
and  counted  on  my  return  ;  taking  good  care  to  lock  the  door  of 
the  supper-room,  and  treasure  what  little  sustenance  still  remained 
in  it. 

When  I  appeared  in  the  saloon,  now  lighted  up  by  the  morning 
sun,  I  not  only  caused  a  sensation  myself,  but  felt  one  in  my  own 
bosom  which  was  of  the  most  painful  description.  Oh,  my  reader  I 
may  you  never  behold  such  a  sight  as  that  which  presented  itself : 
eighty-three  men  and  women  in  ball-dresses ;  the  former  with  their 
lank  powdered  locks  streaming  over  their  faces;  the  latter  with 
faded  flowers,  uncurled  wigs,  smudged  rouge,  blear  eyes,  draggling 
feathers,  rumpled  satins — each  more  desperately  melancholy  and 
hideous  than  the  other — each,  except  my  beloved  Belinda  Bulcher, 
whose  raven  ringlets  never  having  been  in  curl,  could  of  course  never 
go  oxit  of  curl ;  whose  cheek,  pale  as  the  lily,  could,  as  it  may 
naturally  be  supposed,  grow  no  paler;  whose  neck  and  beauteous 


i68   THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES  OF 

arms,  dazzling  as  alabaster,  needed  no  pearl-powder,  and  therefore, 
as  I  need  not  state,  did  not  suffer  because  the  pearl-powder  had 
come  off.  Joy  (deft  link-boy  !)  lit  his  lamps  in  each  of  her  eyes  as 
I  entered.  As  if  I  had  been  her  sun,  her  spring,  lo  !  blushing  roses 
mantled  in  her  cheek  !  Seventy-three  ladies,  as  I  entered,  opened 
their  fire  upon  me,  and  stunned  me  with  cross-questions  regarding 
my  adventures  in  the  camp — she,  as  she  saw  me,  gave  a  faint 
scream  (the  sweetest,  sure,  that  ever  gurgled  tlirough  the  throat  of 
a  woman  !),  then  started  up — then  made  as  if  she  would  sit  down — • 
then  moved  backwards — then  tottered  forwards — then  tumbled  into 
my — -Psha !  why  recall,  why  attempt  to  describe  that  delicious — 
that  passionate  greeting  of  two  young  hearts  ?  ^^'hat  was  the 
surrounding  crowd  to  ^ls  ?  What  cared  we  for  the  sneers  of  the 
men,  the  titters  of  the  jealous  women,  the  shrill  "Upon  my  word  !  " 
of  the  elder  Miss  Bulcher,  and  the  loud  expostulations  of  Belinda's 
mamma?  The  brave  girl  loved  me,  and  wept  in  my  arms. 
"  Goliah  !  my  Goliali ! "  said  she,  "  my  brave,  my  beautiful,  thou 
art  returned,  and  hope  comes  back  with  thee.  Oh  !  who  can  tell 
the  anguish  of  my  soul,  during  this  dreadful,  dreadful  niglit  % " 
Other  similar  ejaculations  of  love  and  joy  she  uttered  ;  and  if  I  had 
l)erilled  life  in  her  service,  if  I  did  believe  that  hope  of  escape  there 
was  none,  so  exquisite  was  the  moment  of  our  meeting,  that  I  forgot 
all  else  in  this  overwhelming  joy  ! 

[The  Major's  description  of  this  meeting,  which  lasted  at  the 
very  most  not  ten  seconds,  occupies  thirteen  pages  of  writing.  We 
have  been  compelled  to  dock  off  twelve  and  a  lialf ;  for  the  whole 
passage,  though  highly  creditable  to  his  feelings,  might  possibly  be 
tedious  to  the  reader.] 

•  ••«••• 

As  I  said,  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  were  inclined  to  sneer,  and 
were  giggling  audibly,  I  led  the  dear  girl  to  a  chair,  and,  scowling 
round  with  a  tremendous  fierceness,  wliich  those  who  know  me  know 
I  can  sometimes  put  on,  I  shouted  out,  "  Hark  ye  !  men  and  women 
— I  am  this  lady's  truest  knight — lier  husbanil  I  hoi)e  one  day  to 
be.  I  am  commander,  too,  in  tliis  fort — tlie  enemy  is  without  it ; 
another  word  of  mockery — another  glance  of  scorn — and,  by  Heaven, 
I  will  hurl  every  man  and  woman  from  the  battlements,  a  prey  to 
the  ruffianly  Holkar  ! "  This  quieted  them.  I  am  a  man  of  my 
word,  and  none  of  them  stirred  or  looked  disrespectfully  from  that 
moment. 

It  was  now  my  turn  to  make  them  look  foolish.  Mrs.  Vande- 
gobbleschroy  (whose  unfailing  appetite  is  pretty  well  known  to  every 


MAJOR   GAHAGAN  169 

person  who  has  been  in  India)  cried,  "  Well,  Captain  Gahagan,  your 
ball  has  been  so  jjleasant,  and  the  snjjper  was  despatched  so  long 
ago,  that  myself  and  the  ladies  would  be  very  glad  of  a  little  break- 
fast." And  JMrs,  Van.  giggled  as  if  she  had  made  a  very  witty  antl 
reasonable  speech.  "  Oh  !  breakfast,  breakfast,  by  all  means," 
said  tlie  rest ;  "we  really  are  dying  for  a  warm  cup  of  tea." 

"  Is  it  bohay  tay  or  souchong  tay  that  you'd  like,  ladies  1  " 
says  I. 

"Nonsense,  you  silly  man;  any  tea  you  like,"  said  flxt  Mrs. 
Van. 

"What  do  you  say,  then,  to  some  prime  gunpoivder  ? ''^  Of 
course  they  said  it  was  the  very  thing. 

"  And  do  you  like  hot  rowls  or  cowld — muffins  or  crumpets — 
fresh  butter  or  salt  ?  And  you,  gentlemen,  what  do  you  say  to 
some  ilegant  divvled-kidneys  for  yourselves,  and  just  a  trifle  of 
grilled  turkeys,  and  a  couple  of  hundthred  new-laid  eggs  for  the 
ladies?" 

"Pooh,  pooh!  be  it  as  you  will,  my  dear  fello^\',"  answered 
they  all. 

"  But  stop,"  says  I.  "  0  ladies,  0  ladies  !  0  gentlemen,  gentle- 
men !  that  you  should  ever  have  come  to  the  quarters  of  Goliah 
Gahagan,  and  he  been  without " 

""what  1 "  said  they,  in  a  breath. 

"  Alas  !  alas !  I  have  not  got  a  single  stick  of  chocolate  in  the 
whole  house." 

"  Well,  well,  we  can  do  without  it." 

"  Or  a  single  pound  of  coftee." 

"  Never  mind  ;  let  that  pass  too."  (Mrs.  Van.  and  the  rest 
were  beginning  to  look  alarmed.) 

"  And  about  the  kidneys — now  I  remember,  the  black  divvies 
outside  the  fort  have  seized  upon  all  the  sheep ;  and  how  are 
we  to  have  kidneys  without  them'?"  (Here  there  was  a  slight 
0  — 0 — 0  !) 

"  And  with  regard  to  the  milk  and  crame,  it  may  l)e  remarked 
that  the  cows  are  likewise  in  pawn,  and  not  a  single  droi)  can  be 
had  for  money  or  love :  but  we  can  beat  up  eggs,  you  know,  in  the 
tay,  which  will  be  just  as  good." 

"  Oh  !  just  as  good." 

"Only  the  divvle's  in  the  luck,  there's  not  a  fresh  egg  to  be 
had — no,  nor  a  fresh  chicken,"  continued  I,  "  nor  a  stale  one  either ; 
not  a  tayspoonful  of  souchong,  nor  a  thimbleful  of  bohny  :  nor  the 
laste  taste  in  life  of  butther,  salt  or  fresh  ;  nor  hot  rowls  or  cowld !  " 

"  In  the  name  of  Heaven  ! "  said  Mrs.  Van,  growing  very  pale, 
"  what  is  there,  then  ? " 


lyo   THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES  OF 

"Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I'll  tell  you  what  there  is  now,'' 
shouted  I.     "There's 

"  Two  drumsticks  of  fowls,  and  a  bone  of  ham, 
Fourteen  bottles  of  ginger-beer,"  &c.  &c.  &c. 

And  I  went  through  the  whole  list  of  eatables  as  before,  ending 
with  the  ham-sandwiches  and  the  pot  of  jelly. 

"  Law !  Mr.  Gahagan,"  said  Mrs.  Colonel  Vandegobbleschroy, 
"give  me  the  ham-sand-niches — I  must  manage  to  breakfast  off 
them." 

And  you  should  have  heard  the  pretty  to-do  there  was  at  this 
modest  proposition  !  Of  course  I  did  not  accede  to  it — why  should 
LI  I  was  tlie  commander  of  the  fort,  and  intended  to  keep  these 
three  very  sandwiches  for  the  use  of  myself  and  my  dear  Belinda. 
"Ladies,"  said  I,  "there  are  in  tliis  fort  one  hundred  and  twenty- 
six  souls,  and  this  is  all  the  food  which  is  to  last  us  during  the  siege. 
Meat  there  is  none — of  drink  there  is  a  tolerable  quantity ;  and 
at  one  o'clock  punctually,  a  glass  of  wine  and  one  olive  shall  be 
served  out  to  each  woman  :  the  men  will  receive  two  glasses,  and 
an  olive  and  a  fig — and  this  must  be  your  food  during  the  siege. 
Lord  Lake  cannot  be  absent  more  than  three  days  ;  and  if  he  be — 
why,  still  there  is  a  chance — why  do  I  say  a  chance? — a  certainty 
of  escaping  from  the  hands  of  these  ruffians." 

"  Oh,  name  it,  name  it,  dear  Cai)tain  Gahagan  ! "  screeched  the 
whole  covey  at  a  breath. 

"  It  lies,"  answered  I,  "  in  the  2^owder  magazine.  I  will  blow 
this  fort,  and  all  it  contains,  to  atoms,  ere  it  becomes  the  prey  of 
Holkar." 

The  women,  at  this,  raised  a  squeal  that  might  have  been  heard 
in  Holkar's  camp,  and  fointed  in  difierent  directions ;  but  my  dear 
Belinda  whispered  in  my  car,  "Well  done,  thou  noble  knight.' 
bravely  said,  my  heart's  Goliah  !  "  I  felt  I  was  right :  I  could  have 
blo-\Mi  her  up  twenty  times  for  the  luxury  of  that  single  moment.' 
"And  now,  ladies,"  said  I,  "I  nmst  leave  you.  The  two  chaplains 
will  remain  with  you  to  administer  professional  consolation — the 
other  gentlemen  will  follow  me  upstairs  to  the  ramparts,  where  1 
shall  find  plenty  of  work  for  them." 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  ESCAPE 

LOTH  as  they  were,  these  gentlemen  had  nothing  for  it  but  to' 
obey,  and  they  accordingly  followed  me  to  the  ramparts,  where 
-'  I  proceeded  to  review  my  men.  The  fort,  in  my  al)«ence,  had 
been  left  in  command  of  Lieutenant  Macgillicuddy,  a  countryman  of 
my  own  (with  whom,  as  may  be  seen  in  an  early  chai)ter  of  my 
memoirs,  I  had  an  aftair  of  honour)  ;  and  the  prisoner  Bolibachy 
Bahawder,  whom  I  had  only  stunned,  never  wishing  to  kill  him, 
had  been  left  in  charge  of  that  officer.  Three  of  the  garrison  (one 
of  them  a  man  of  the  Ahmednuggar  Irregulars,  my  own  body- 
servant,  Ghorumsaug  above  named)  were  appointed  to  watch  the 
captive  by  turns,  and  never  leave  him  out  of  tlieir  sight.  The 
lieutenant  was  instructed  to  look  to  them  and  to  their  })risoner; 
and  as  Bol)bachy  was  severely  injured  by  the  blow  which  I  had 
given  him,  and  was,  moreover,  bound  hand  and  foot,  and  gagged 
smartly  with  cords,  I  considered  myself  sure  of  his  person. 

Macgillicuddy  diil  not  make  his  appearance  when  I  reviewed  my 
little  force,  and  the  tlu'ce  havildars  were  likewise  absent :  this  did 
not  surprise  me,  as  I  had  told  them  not  to  leave  their  prisoner; 
but  desirous  to  speak  with  the  lieutenant,  I  despatched  a  messenger 
to  him,  and  ordered  him  to  appear  immediately. 

The  messenger  came  back ;  he  was  looking  ghastly  jiale :  he 
whispered  some  information  into  my  ear,  which  instantly  caused  me 
to  hasten  to  the  apartments  where  I  had  caused  Bobbachy  Bahawder 
to  be  confined. 

The  men  had  fled ; — Bobbachy  had  fled  ;  and  in  his  place,  foncy 
my  astonishment  when  I  found — with  a  rope  cutting  his  naturally 
wide  mouth  almost  into  his  ears — with  a  dreadful  sabre-cut  across 
his  forehead — with  his  legs  tied  over  his  head,  and  his  arms  tied 
between  his  legs  —  my  unhappy,  my  attached  friend  —  Mortimer 
Macgillicuddy ! 

He  had  been  in  this  position  for  about  three  hours—  it  was  the 
very  position  in  which  I  had  caused  Bobbachy  Bahawder  to  be 
placecl — an  attitude  uncomfortable,  it  is  true,  but  one  which  renders 
escape  impossible,  unless  treason  aid  the  prisoner. 


172   THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES  OF 

I  restored  the  lieutenant  to  his  natural  erect  position ;  I  poured 
half  a  bottle  of  whisky  down  the  immensely  enlarged  orifice  of  his 
mouth  ;  and  when  he  had  been  released,  he  informed  me  of  the 
circumstances  that  had  taken  place. 

Fool  that  I  was !  idiot ! — upon  my  return  to  the  fort,  to  have 
been  anxious  about  my  personal  appearance,  and  to  have  spent 
a  couple  of  hours  in  removing  the  artificial  blackening  from  my 
beard  and  complexion,  instead  of  going  to  examine  my  prisoner— 
when  his  escape  would  have  been  prevented.  0  foppery,  foppery ! 
— it  was  that  cursed  love  of  personal  appearance  which  had  led  me 
to  forget  my  duty  to  my  general,  my  country,  my  monarch,  and  my 
own  honour ! 

Tims  it  was  that  the  escape  took  place  : — My  own  fellow  of  the 
Irregulars,  wliom  I  had  summoned  to  dress  me,  performed  the 
operation  to  my  satisfaction,  invested  me  with  the  elegant  uniform 
of  my  corps,  and  removed  the  Pitan's  disguise,  which  I  had  taken 
from  the  back  of  the  prostrate  Bo])bachy  Bahawder.  What  did  the 
rogue  do  next  ? — Why,  he  carried  back  the  dress  to  the  Bobbachy — 
he  put  it,  once  more,  on  its  right  owner ;  he  and  his  infernal  black 
companions  (who  had  been  won  over  by  the  Bobbachy  with  promises 
of  enormous  reward)  gagged  Macgillicuddy,  who  was  going  the 
rounds,  and  tlien  marched  with  the  Indian  coolly  up  to  the  outer 
gate  and  gave  the  word.  The  sentinel,  thinking  it  was  myself,  who 
had  first  come  in,  and  was  as  likely  to  go  out  again — (indeed  my 
rascally  valet  said  that  Gahagan  Sahib  was  about  to  go  out  witli 
liiui  and  his  two  companions  to  reconnoitre) — opened  the  gates,  and 
off  they  went ! 

Tliis  accounted  for  the  confusion  of  my  valet  when  I  entered  ! — 
and  for  the  seounilrel's  speech,  that  the  lieutenant  had  ,/;/.«(<  been  the 
rounds; — he  had,  poor  fellow,  and  had  been  seized  and  bound  in 
this  cruel  way.  The  three  men,  with  their  liberated  prisoner,  liad 
just  been  on  the  point  of  escape,  Avhen  my  arrival  disconcerted  them  : 
I  had  changed  the  guard  at  the  gate  (whom  they  had  won  over  like- 
wise); and  yet,  although  they  had  overcome  poor  Mac,  and  although 
they  were  ready  for  the  start,  they  had  positively  no  means  for 
effecting  their  escape,  until  I  was  ass  enough  to  put  means  in  their 
way  Fool !  fool !  thrice-besotted  fool  that  I  was,  to  think  of  ray 
own  silly  person  when  I  should  have  been  occupied  solely  with  my 
public  duty. 

From  Macgillicuddy's  incoherent  accounts,  as  he  was  gasping 
from  the  effects  of  the  gag  and  the  whisky  he  had  taken  to  revive 
him,  and  from  my  own  subsequent  observations,  I  learned  this  sad 
story.  A  sudden  and  painful  thought  struck  me — my  precious 
box  ! — I  rushed  back — I  found  that  box — I  have  it  still     Opening 


MAJOR    GAHAGAN  173 

it,  there,  where  I  had  left  ingots,  sacks  of  bright  tomauns,  kopeks 
and  rupees,  strings  of  diamonds  as  big  as  ducks'  eggs,  rubies  as  red 
as  the  lips  of  my  Belinda,  countless  strings  of  pearls,  amethysts, 
emeralds,  piles  upon  piles  of  bank-notes — I  found — a  piece  of  paper ! 
with  a  few  lines  in  the  Sanscrit  language,  which  are  thus,  word  for 
word,  translated : — 

"  EPIGRAM. 

"{On  disappointing  a  certain  Major.) 

"  The  conquering  lion  return'd  with  his  prey. 

And  safe  in  his  cavern  he  set  it ; 
The  sly  little  fox  stole  the  booty  away, 
And,  as  he  escaped,  to  the  lion  did  say, 

'  Aha  !  don't  you  wish  you  may  got  it  ? '  " 

Confusion  !  Oh,  how  my  blood  boiled  as  I  read  these  cutting 
lines.  I  stamped, — I  swore, — I  don't  know  to  what  insane  lengths 
my  rage  might  liave  carried  me,  had  not  at  this  moment  a  soldier 
rushed  in,  screaming,  "  The  enemy,  the  enemy  ! " 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  CAPTIVE 

IT  yas  high  time,  indeed,  that  I  should  make  my  appearance. 
Waving  my  sword  with  one  hand  and  seizing  my  telescope  with 
the  otlier,  I  at  once  frightened  and  examined  tlie  enemy.  Well 
they  knew  when  they  saw  that  flamingo-i)lunie  Hoating  in  t'lie  breeze 
— tliat  awful  figure  standing  in  the  breach — that  waving  war-sword 
sparkling  in  the  sky— well,  I  say,  they  knew  the  name  of  the 
humble  individual  who  owned  the  sword,  the  plume,  and  the  figure. 
The  ruffians  were  mustered  in  front,  the  cavalry  behind.  The  flags 
were  flying,  the  drums,  gongs,  tambourines,  violoncellos,  and  other 
instruments  of  Eastern  music,  raised  in  the  air  a  strange  barbaric 
melody;  the  ofticers  (yatabals),  mounteil  on  white  dromedaries, 
were  seen  galloping  to  and  fro,  carrying  to  the  atlvancing  hosts 
the  orders  of  Holkar. 

You  see  that  two  sides  of  the  fort  of  Futtyghur  (rising  as  it 
does  on  a  rock  that  is  almost  perpendicular)  are  defended  by  the 
Burrumpooter  river,  two  hundred  feet  deep  at  this  point,  and  a 
thousand  yards  wide,  so  that  I  had  no  fear  about  them  attacking 
me  in  tluit  tpiarter.-  My  guns,  therefore  (with  tlieir  six-and-thirty 
miserable  charges  of  shot),  were  dragged  round  to  the  point  at  which 
I  conceived  Holkar  would  be  most  likely  to  attack  me.  I  wivs  in  a 
situation  that  I  did  not  dar':'  to  fire,  except  at  such  times  as  I  could 
kill  a  hundred  men  by  a  single  discharge  of  a  camion  ;  so  the  attack- 
ing party  marched  and  marched,  very  strongly,  about  a  mile  and  a 
half  off,  the  elephants  marching  without  receiving  the  slightest 
damage  from  us,  until  they  had  come  to  within  four  hundred  yards 
of  our  walls  (the  rogues  knew  all  the  secrets  of  our  weakness,  through 
the  betrayal  of  the  dastardly  Ghorumsaug,  or  they  never  would  have 
ventured  so  near).  At  tliat  distance— it  was  about  the  s])ot  where 
the  Futtyghur  hill  ])egan  gi-adually  to  rise— the  invading  force 
stopped  ;  the  elephants  drew  up  in  a  line,  at  right  angles  with  our 
wall  (the  fools  !  they  thought  they  should  expose  themselves  too 
much  by  taking  a  position  j^arallel  to  it) ;  the  cavalry  halted  too, 
and — after  the  deuce's  own  flourish  of  trumpets  and  banging  of 
gongs,  to  be  sure, — somebody,  in  a  flame-coloured  satin  dress,  with 


MAJOR   GAHAGAN 


175 


an  immeuse  jewel  blazing  in  his  pugree  (that  looked  through  my 
telescope  like  a  small  but  very  bright  planet),  got  up  from  the  back 
of  one  of  tlie  very  biggest  elephants,  and  began  a  speccli. 

The  elephants  were,  as  I  said,  in  a  line  formed  with  admirable 
precision,  about  tliree  hundred  of  them.  The  following  little  diagram 
will  explain  matters  :■ — 


E 


F 


E  is  the  line  of  elephants.     F  is  the  wall  of  the  fort.     G  a  gun  in 
the  fort.     Xfnv  tlie  reader  will  see  what  I  did. 

The  elephants  were  standing,  their  trunks  waggling  to  and  fro 
gracefully  before  them ;  and  I,  with  superhuman  skill  and  activity, 
brouglit  the  gun  G  (a  devilish  long  brass  gun)  to  boar  upon  them. 
I  pointed  it  myself;  bang !  it  went,  and  what  was  the  consequence  1 
Why,  this  :— ' 


G 
F 


F  is  the  fort,  as  before.  G  is  the  gun,  as  before.  E,  the  elephants, 
as  we  have  previously  seen  them.  What  then  is  x  ^  x  is  the 
line  taken  hy  the  ball  Jived  from  G,  which  took  off  one  hundred 
and  thirty-four  eleiyhants'  trunks,  and  only  spent  itself  in  the  tusk 
of  a  very  old  animal,  that  stood  the  hundred  and  thirty-fifth  ! 

I  say  that  such  a  shot  was  never  fired  before  or  since :  tliat  a 
gim  was  never  pointed  in  such  a  way.  Suppose  I  had  been  a 
common  man,  and  contented  myself  Avith  firing  bang  at  the^  head 
of  the  first  animal?  An  ass  v^ould  have  done  it,  prided  himself 
had  he  hit  his  mark,  and  what  would  have  been  the  consequence  ? 
Why,  that  the  ball  might  have  kUled  two  elepliants  and  wounded 
a  third  ;  but  here,  probably,  it  would  have  stopped,  an<l  done  no 
further  mischief.  The  trunk  was  the  place  at  which  to  aim  ;  there 
are  no  bones  there ;  and  away,  consequently,  went  the  bullet,  shear- 


176   THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES  OF 

ing,  as  I  have  said,  through  one  hundred  and  thirty-five  probosces. 
Heavens  !  what  a  howl  tliere  was  when  the  shot  took  eftect !  What 
a  sudden  stoppage  of  Holkar's  speech !  What  a  hideous  snorting  of 
elephants  !  What  a  rush  backwards  was  made  by  the  whole  army, 
as  if  some  demon  was  pursuing  them  ! 

Away  they  went.  No  sooner  did  I  see  them  in  full  retreat, 
than,  rushing  forward  myself,  I  shouted  to  my  men,  "  My  friends, 
yonder  lies  your  dinner !  "  We  flung  open  the  gates — we  tore  down 
to  tlie  spot  where  the  elephants  had  fallen :  seven  of  them  were 
killed ;  and  of  those  that  escaped  to  die  of  their  hideous  woimds 
elsewhere,  most  had  left  their  trunks  behind  them.  A  great 
quantity  of  them  we  seized ;  and  I  myself,  cutting  up  with  my 
scimitar  a  couple  of  the  fallen  animals,  as  a  butcher  would  a  calf, 
motioned  to  the  men  to  take  the  pieces  back  to  the  fort,  where 
barbacued  elephant  was  served  round  for  dinner,  instead  of  the 
•  miserable  allowance  of  an  olive  and  a  glass  of  wine,  wliich  I  had 
promised  to  my  female  friends  in  ray  speech  to  them.  The  animal 
reserved  for  the  ladies  was  a  young  white  one — the  fattest  and 
tenderest  I  ever  ate  in  my  life :  they  are  very  fair  eating,  but  the 
flesh  has  an  India-rubber  flavour,  wliich,  imtil  one  is  accustomed  to 
it.  is  unpalatable. 

It  was  well  that  I  had  obtained  this  supply,  for,  during  my 
absence  on  the  M^orks,  Mrs.  Vandegobbleitchroy  and  one  or  two  others 
had  forced  their  way  into  the  supper-room,  and  devom'ed  every 
morsel  of  tlie  garrison  larder,  with  the  exception  of  the  cheeses,  the 
olives,  and  the  Avine,  which  were  locked  up  in  my  own  apartment, 
before  which  stood  a  sentinel.  Disgusting  IMrs.  Van.  !  When  I 
heard  of  her  gluttony,  I  Imd  almost  a  mind  to  eat  her.  However, 
we  made  a  very  comfortable  dinner  off  the  barbacued  steaks,  and 
when  everybody  had  done,  haxl  the  comfort  of  knowing  that  there 
was  enough  for  one  meal  more. 

The  next  day,  Jis  I  expected,  the  enemy  attacked  us  in  great 
force,  attempting  to  escalade  the  fort ;  but  by  the  help  of  my  guns, 
and  my  good  sword,  by  the  distinguished  bravery  of  Lieutenant 
Macgillicuddy  and  the  rest  of  the  garrison,  we  beat  this  attack  off 
completely,  the  enemy  sustaining  a  loss  of  seven  hundred  men.  We 
were  victorious  ;  but  when  another  attack  was  made,  what  were  we 
to  do  %  We  had  still  a  little  powder  left,  but  had  fired  off  aU  the 
shot,  stones,  iron  bars,  &c.,  in  the  garrison  !  On  tliis  day,  too,  we 
devoured  the  last  morsel  of  our  food :  I  shall  never  forget  Mrs. 
Vandegobbleschroy's  despairing  look,  a.s  I  saw  her  sitting  alone, 
attempting  to  make  some  impression  on  the  little  white  elephant's 
roasted  tail. 

The  third  day  the  attack  was  repeated.     The  resources  of  genius 


MAJOR   GAHAGAN  177 

are  never  at  an  end.  Yesterday  I  had  no  ammunition ;  to-day  1 
discovered  charges  sufficient  for  two  guns,  and  two  swivels,  wliicli 
were  much  longer,  but  had  bores  nf  about  blunderbuss  size. 

This  time  iny  friend  Loll  Mahommcd,  who  had  received,  as  the 
reader  may  remember,  such  a  bastinadoing  f(ir  my  sake,  headed  the 
attack.  The  poor  wretch  could  not  walk,  but  he  was  carried  in  an 
open  palanquin,  and  came  on  waving  his  sword,  and  cursing  horribly 
in  his  Hindustan  jargon.  Behind  him  came  troops  of  matchlock- 
men,  who  i)icked  off  every  one  of  our  men  who  showed  their 
noses  above  the  ramparts  :  and  a  great  host  of  blackamorus  with 
scaling-ladders,  bundles  to  fill  the  ditch,  fascines,  gabions,  cuh^'rins, 
demilunes,  counterscarps,  and  all  the  other  appurtenances  of  offen- 
sive war. 

On  they  came;  my  guns  and  men  were  ready  for  them.  You 
\\dll  ask  how  my  pieces  were  loaded"?  I  answer,  that  though  my 
garrison  were  without  food,  I  knew  my  duty  as  an  officer,  and  had 
put  the  two  Dutch  cheeses  into  the  ttuo  gmis,  and  had  crammed  the 
contents  of  a  bottle  of  olives  into  each  swivel. 

They  advanced, — whish !  went  one  of  the  Dutch  cheeses, — bang  I 
went  the  other.  Alas  !  they  did  little  execution.  In  their  first  con- 
tact with  an  opposing  body,  they  certainly  floored  it ;  but  they 
became  at  once  like  so  much  AVelsh-ratbit,  and  did  no  execution 
beyond  the  man  whom  they  struck  doAvn. 

"  Hogree,  pogree^  wongrec-fum  (praise  to  Allah  and  the  forty- 
nine  Imaums  !)  "  shouted  out  the  ferocious  Loll  Mahunnncd  when  he 
saw  the  failure  of  my  shot.  "  Onward,  sons  of  the  Prophet !  the 
infidel  has  no  more  ammunition.  A  hundred  thousand  lakhs  of 
rupees  to  the  man  who  brings  me  Gahagan's  head  ! " 

His  men  set  up  a  shout,  and  rushed  forward — he,  to  do  him 
justice,  was  at  the  very  head,  urging  on  his  own  palanquin-bearers, 
and  poking  them  with  the  tip  of  his  scimitar.  They  came  panting 
up  the  hill :  I  Avas  black  with  rage,  but  it  was  the  cold  concentrated 
rage  of  despair.  "  Macgillicuddy,"  said  I,  calling  that  faithftd  officer, 
"you  know  where  the  barrels  of  powder  are"?"  He  did.  "You 
know  the  use  to  make  of  them  1 "  He  did.  He  grasped  my  hand. 
"Goliah,"  said  he,  "farewell!  I  swear  that  the  fort  shall  be  in 
atoms,  as  soon  as  yonder  unbelievers  have  carried  it.  Oh,  my  poor 
mother  !  "  added  the  gallant  youth,  as  sighing,  yet  fearless,  he  retired 
to  his  post. 

I  gave  one  thought  to  my  blessed,  my  beautiful  Belinda,  and 
then,  stepping  into  the  front,  took  down  one  of  the  SAvivcls ; — a 
shower  of  matchlock  balls  came  whizzing  round  my  head.  I  did 
not  heed  them. 

I   took   the  swivel,   and  aimed   coolly.      Loll   Maliommed,    his 


178   THE  TEEMEXDOUS  ADVENTURES  OF 

palauquiu,  and  liis  men,  were  now  not  above  two  hundred  yards  from 
the  fort.  Loll  was  straight  before  me,  gesticulating  and  shouting  to 
his  men.     I  fired — bang  ! !  ! 

I  aimed  so  true,  that  one  hundred  and  seventeen  best  Spanish 
olives  were  lodged  in  a  Inmp  in  the  face  of  the  unhappy  Loll 
Mahommed.  The  wretch,  uttering  a  yell  the  most  hideous  and 
unearthly  I  ever  heard,  fell  back  dead  ;  the  frightened  bearers  flung 
down  the  palanquin  and  ran — the  whole  host  ran  as  one  man :  their 
screams  might  be  heard  for  leagues.  "Tomasha,  tomasha,"  they 
cried,  "it  is  enchantment  I "  Away  they  fled,  and  the  victory  a 
third  time  was  ours.  Soon  as  the  fight  was  done,  I  flew  back  to  my 
Belinda.  We  hail  eaten  nothing  for  twenty-four  hours,  but  I  forgot 
hunger  in  the  thought  of  once  more  beholding  her  I 

The  sweet  soul  turned  towards  me  with  a  sickly  smile  as  I 
entered,  and  almost  fointed  in  my  arms ;  but  alas !  it  was  not  love 
which  caused  in  her  bosom  an  emotion  so  strong — it  was  hunger ! 
"  Oh  !  my  Goliah,"  whispered  she,  "  for  three  days  I  have  not  tasted 
food — I  could  not  eat  that  horrid  elephant  yesterday;  but  now — oh! 

Heaven  ! "     She  could  say  no  more,  but  sank  almost  lifeless  on 

my  shoulder.  I  administered  to  her  a  trifling  dram  of  rum,  which 
revived  her  for  a  moment,  and  then  rushed  downstairs,  determined 
that  if  it  were  a  piece  of  my  own  leg,  she  shouhl  still  have  something 
to  satisfy  her  himger.  Luckily  I  remembered  that  three  or  four 
elephants  were  still  lying  in  the  field,  having  been  killed  by  us  in 
the  first  action  two  days  before.  Necessity,  thought  I,  has  no  law ; 
my  adorable  girl  must  eat  elephant,  until  she  can  get  something 
better. 

I  nished  into  the  court  where  the  men  were,  for  the  most  part, 
assembled.  "  Men,"  said  I,  "  our  larder  is  empty  ;  we  must  fill  it 
ixs  we  did  the  day  before  yesterday.  Who  will  follow  Gagahan  on 
a  foraging  party  ? "  I  expected  that,  as  on  former  occasions,  every 
man  would  ofter  to  accompany  me. 

To  my  astonishment,  not  a  soul  moved — a  murmur  arose  among 
the  troops ;  and  at  last  one  of  the  oldest  and  bravest  came  forward. 

"  Captain,"'  he  said,  "  it  is  of  no  use ;  we  cannot  feed  upon 
elephants  for  ever ;  we  have  not  a  grain  of  powder  left,  and  must 
give  up  the  fort  wlien  the  attack  is  made  to-morrow.  "\\'e  may  as 
well  be  prisoners  now  as  then,  and  we  won't  go  elephant-hunting 
any  more." 

"  Rufiian  !  "  I  said,  "  he  who  first  talks  of  surrender,  dies  !  "  and 
I  cut  him  down.      "Is  there  any  one  else  who  wishes  to  speak?" 

No  one  stirred. 

"  Cowards  !  miserable  cowards  '.  "  shouted  I ;  "  what,  you  dare 
not  move  for  fear  of  death  at  the  hands  of  those  wretches  who  even 


MAJOR    GAHAGAN  i 


9 


now  fled  before  your  arms — what,  do  I  say  your  arms? — before 
mi7ie  ! — alone  I  did  it ;  and  as  alone  I  routed  the  foe,  alone  I  will 
victual  tlie  fortress  I     Ho  !  open  the  gate  ! '"' 

I  rushed  out;  not  a  single  man  would  follow.  The  bodies  of 
the  elepliants  that  we  had  killed  still  lay  on  the  ground  where  they 
had  fallen,  about  fom-  hundred  yards  from  the  fort.  I  descended 
calmly  the  hill,  a  very  steep  one,  and  coming  to  the  spot,  took  my 
pick  of  the  animals,  choosing  a  tolerably  small  and  plump  one,  of 
about  thirteen  feet  high,  which  the  Aniltures  liad  respected.  I 
threw  this  animal  over  my  shoulders,  and  made  for  the  fort. 

As  I  marched  ui)  the  acclivity,  whizz — piff — whirr  !  came  the 
balls  over  my  head ;  and  pitter-patter,  pitter-patter  !  they  fell  on 
the  body  of  the  elephant  like  drops  of  rain.  The  enemy  were 
behind  me  ;  I  knew  it,  and  quickened  my  pace.  I  heard  the  gallop 
of  their  liorse  :  they  came  nearer,  nearer ;  I  was  within  a  hundred 
yards  of  the  fort — seventy — fifty!  I  strained  every  nerve;  I  ])anted 
with  the  superhuman  exertion — I  ran — could  a  man  run  very  fast 
with  such  a  tremendous  weight  on  his  shoulders  ? 

Up  came  the  enemy  :  fifty  horsemen  were  shouting  and  scream- 
ing at  my  tail.  0  Heaven  !  five  yards  more — one  moment — and  I 
am  saved.  It  Ls  done — I  strain  the  last  strain — I  make  the  last 
step — I  fling  forward  my  precious  burden  into  the  gate  opened  wide 
to  receive  me  and  it,  and — I  fall !  The  gate  thunders  to,  and  I  am 
left  on  the  outside  .'  Fifty  knives  are  gleaming  before  my  bloodshot 
eyes — fifty  black  hands  are  at  my  throat,  when  a  voice  exclaims, 
"  Stop  ! — kill  him  not,  it  is  Gujputi  !  "  A  film  came  over  my  eyes 
— exhausted  nature  would  bear  no  more. 


CHAPTER  IX 
SURPRISE  OF  FUTTYGHUR 

WHEN  I  awoke  from  the  trance  into  which  I  had  fallen,  1 
found  myself  in  a  bath,  surrounded  by  innumerable  black 
faces,  and  a  Hindoo  ])othukoor  (whence  our  word  apothe- 
cary) feeling  my  ]nilse  and  looking  at  me  with  an  air  of  sagacity. 

"  Where  am  I  ? "  I  exclaimed,  looking  round  and  examining  the 
strange  faces,  and  the  strange  apartment  which  met  my  view. 
"  Beklmsm  !  "  said  the  apothecary.  "  Silence!  Gahagan  Sahib  is  in 
the  hands  of  those  who  know  his  valour,  and  wiU  save  his  life." 

"Know  my  valour,  slave  1  Of  course  you  do,"  said  I;  "but 
the  fort— the  garrison — the  elephant— Belinda,  my  love— my  darling 
— Macgillicuddy — the  scoundrelly  mutineers — the  deal  bo " 

I  could  say  no  more  ;  the  painful  recollections  pressed  so  heavily 
upon  my  poor  shattered  mind  antl  frame,  that  both  failed  once  more. 
I  fainted  again,  ami  I  kriow  not  how  long  I  lay  insensible. 

Again,  however,  I  came  to  my  senses :  the  potliukoor  applied 
restoratives,  and  after  a  slumber  of  some  hours  I  awoke,  nmch 
refreshed.  I  had  no  wound  ;  my  repeated  swoons  had  been  brought 
on  (as  indeed  well  they  might)  liy  my  gigantic  efforts  in  carrying 
the  elepiiant  up  a  steep  hill  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  length.  Walk- 
ing, the  task  is  ])ad  enough  :  but  running,  it  is  the  deuce ;  and  I 
would  recommend  any  of  my  readers  who  may  be  disposed  to  try 
and  carry  a  dead  elephant,  never,  on  any  account,  to  go  a  pace  of 
more  than  live  miles  an  hour. 

Scarcely  was  I  awake,  when  I  heard  the  clash  of  arms  at  my 
door  (plainly  indicating  that  sentinels  were  posted  there),  and  a 
single  old  gentleman,  richly  habited,  entered  the  room.  Did  my 
eyes  deceive  me  ?  I  had  surely  seen  him  before.  No — yes — no — 
yes — it  was  he :  the  snowy  white  beard,  the  mild  eyes,  the  nose 
flattened  to  a  jelly,  and  level  with  the  rest  of  the  venerable  face, 
proclaimed  him  at  once  to  be  —  Saadut  Alee  Beg  Bimbukchee, 
Holkar's  Prime  Vizier;  whose  nose,  as  the  reader  may  recollect, 
his  Highness  had  flattened  with  his  kaleawn  during  my  interview 
with  him  in  the  Pitan's  disguise.  I  now  knew  my  fate  but  too 
well — I  was  in  the  hands  of  Holkar. 


MAJOR    GAHAGAN  i8i 

Saadut  Alee  Beg  Bimbukchee  slowly  advanced  towards  me,  and 
with  a  mild  air  of  benevolence  whi(,-h  distinguished  that  excellent 
man  (he  was  turn  to  jiicres  by  wild  horses  the  year  after,  on  account 
of  a  difterence  with  Holkar),  he  came  to  my  bedside,  and,  taking 
gently  my  hand,  said,  "Life  and  death,  my  son,  are  not  ours. 
Strength  is  deceitful,  valour  is  unavailing,  fame  is  only  wind — the 
nightingale  sings  of  the  rose  all  night — where  is  the  rose  in  the 
morning  1  Booch,  booch  !  it  is  withered  by  the  frost.  The  rose 
makes  remarks  regarding  the  nightingale,  and  wdiere  is  that  de-  • 
lightful  song-bird?  Pena-bekhoda,  he  is  netted,  plucked,  spitted,  ' 
and  roasted  !  Who  knows  how  misfortune  comes  1  It  has  come 
to  Gahagan  Gujputi ! " 

"  It  is  Avell,"  said  I  stoutly,  and  in  the  Malay  language. 
*'  Gahagan  Gujputi  will  bear  it  like  a  man." 

"  No  doubt — like  a  Avise  man  and  a  brave  one  ;  but  there  is  no 
lane  so  long  to  which  there  is  not  a  turning,  no  night  so  black  to 
which  there  comes  not  a  morning.  Icy  winter  is  followed  by  merry 
siiringtime — grief  is  often  succeeded  by  joy." 

"  Interpret,  0  riddler  ! "  said  I ;  "  Gahagan  Khan  is  no  reader 
of  puzzles  —  no  i^rating  mollah.  Gujputi  loves  not  words,  but 
swords." 

"  Listen  then,  0  Gujputi :  you  are  in  Holkar's  power." 

"  I  know  it." 

"  You  will  die  by  the  most  horrible  tortures  to-morrow  morning." 

"  I  dare  say." 

"They  will  tear  your  teeth  from  your  jaws,  your  nails  from 
your  fingers,  and  your  eyes  from  your  head." 

"  Very  possibly." 

"  They  will  flay  you  alive,  and  then  burn  you." 

"Well;  they  can't  do  any  more." 

"They  will  seize  upon  every  man  and  woman  in  yonder  fort" — 
it  was  not  then  taken  ! — "and  repeat  upon  tliem  the  same  tortures." 

"  Ha  !  Belinda  !     Speak — how  can  all  this  be  avoided  1 " 

"  Listen.     Gahagan  loves  the  moon-face  called  Belinda." 

"  He  does.  Vizier,  to  distraction." 

"  Of  what  rank  is  he  in  the  Koompani's  army  1 " 

"  A  captain." 

"  A  miserable  captain— oh,  shame  !     Of  what  creed  is  he  ? " 

"  I  am  an  Irishman,  and  a  Catholic." 

"But  he  has  not  been  very  particular  about  his  religious 
duties  1  ■•' 

"  Alas,  no  !  " 

"  He  has  not  been  to  his  mosque  for  these  twelve  years  1" 

"  'Tis  too  true." 


i82   THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES  OF 

"  Hearken  now,  Gahagan  Khan.  His  Highness  Prince  Holkar 
has  sent  me  to  thee.  You  shall  have  the  moon-face  for  your  wife 
— your  second  wife,  that  is ; — the  first  shall  be  the  incomparable 
Putee  Rooge,  who  loves  you  to  madness ; — with  Puttee  Rooge,  who 
is  the  wife,  you  shall  have  the  wealth  and  rank  of  Bobbachy 
Bahawder,  of  Avhom  his  Highness  intends  to  get  rid.  You  shall 
be  second  in  command  of  his  Highness's  forces.  Look,  here  is  his 
conunission  signed  with  the  celestial  seal,  and  attested  by  the  sacred 
names  of  the  forty-nine  Imaums.  You  have  but  to  renounce  your 
religion  and  your  service,  and  all  these  rewards  are  yours." 

He  produced  a  parchment,  signed  as  he  said,  and  gave  it  to 
me  (it  was  beautifully  written  in  Indian  ink  :  I  had  it  for  fourteen 
years,  but  a  rascally  valet,  seeing  it  very  dirty,  ivashed  it,  forsooth, 
and  waslied  otf  every  bit  of  the  writing).  I  took  it  calmly,  and 
said,  "  This  is  a  tempting  offer.  0  Vizier,  how  long  wilt  thou  give 
nie  to  consider  of  it  1 " 

After  a  long  parley,  he  allowed  me  six  hours,  when  I  promised 
to  give  him  an  answer.  My  mind,  however,  was  made  up — as  soon 
as  he  was  gone,  I  threw  myself  on  the  sofa  and  fell  asleep. 


At  the  end  of  the  six  hoiu-s  the  Vizier  came  back  :  two  people 
were  with  him  ;  one,  by  his  martial  aj)j)earance,  I  knew  to  be  Holkar, 
the  other  I  diil  not  recognise.     It  was  about  midnight. 

"  Have  you  considered  ? "  said  the  Vizier,  as  he  came  to  my 
couch. 

"  I  have,"  said  I,  sitting  up, — I  could  not  stand,  for  my  legs 
were  tied,  and  my  arms  fixc<l  in  a  neat  pair  of  steel  handcuffs.  "  I 
have,"  said  I,  "  unbelieving  dogs  !  I  liave.  Do  you  think  to  pervert 
a  Cliristian  gentleman  from  his  faith  and  honour  ?  Ruffian  blacka- 
moors !  do  your  worst ;  heap  tortures  on  this  body,  they  cannot  last 
long.  Tear  me  to  pieces :  after  you  have  torn  me  into  a  certain 
luunber  of  ])ioces,  I  sliall  not  feel  it;  and  if  I  did,  if  each  ti>rture 
could  last  a  life,  if  each  limb  were  to  feel  the  agonies  of  a  whole 
body,  what  then?  I  would  bear  all — all — all — all — all — all!" 
My  breiist  heaved — my  form  dilated— ray  eye  flashed  as  I  spoke 
tlicse  words.  "  Tyrants  !  "  said  I,  "dulce  et  decorum  est  pro  patria, 
mori."     Having  tluis  clinched  the  argument,  I  was  silent. 

The  venerable  Grand  Vizier  turned  away  ;  I  saw  a  tear  trickling 
down  his  cheeks. 

"  What  a  constancy  !  "  said  he.  "  Oh,  that  such  beauty  and 
such  bravery  should  be  doomed  so  soon  to  quit  the  earth  ! " 

His  tall  companion  only  sneered  and  said,  ^^  And  Belinda ?" 

"  Ha  !  "  said   I,   "  ruffian,   be   still ! — Heaven  will   protect  her 


MAJOR    GAHAGAN  183 

spotless  innocence.  Holkar,  I  know  thee,  and  thou  knowest  me 
too!  Wlio,  with  his  single  sword,  destroyed  thy  armies  1  Who, 
with  his  pistol,  cleft  in  twain  thy  nose-ring?  Who  slew  thy 
generals  ?  Who  slew  thy  elephants  1  Three  hundred  mighty  beasts 
went  forth  to  battle  :  of  these  /  slew  one  hundred  and  thirty -five  ! 
Dog,  coward,  ruffian,  tyrant,  unbeliever !  Gahagan  hates  thee, 
spurns  thee,  spits  on  thee  !  " 

Holkar,  as  I  made  these  uncomplimentary  remarks,  gave  a 
scream  of  rage,  and,  drawing  his  scimitar,  rushed  on  to  despatch  me 
at  once  (it  was  the  very  thing  I  wished  for),  when  the  third  person 
sjirang  forward  and,  seizing  his  arm,  cried — 

"  Papa  !  oh,  save  him  !  "  It  was  Puttee  Rooge  !  "  Remember," 
continued  she,  "  his  nusfortunes — remember,  oh,  remember  my — 
love  ! " — and  here  she  blushed,  and  putting  one  finger  into  her 
mouth,  and  hanging  down  her  head,  looked  the  very  picture  of 
modest  affection. 

Holkar  sulkily  sheathed  his  scimitar,  and  muttered,  "  "Tis  better 
as  it  is ;  had  I  killed  him  now,  I  had  spared  him  the  torture.  Nono 
of  this  shameless  fooling.  Puttee  Rooge,"  continued  the  tyrant, 
dragging  her  away.  "  Captain  Gahagan  dies  three  hours  from 
hence."  Puttee  Rooge  gave  one  scream  and  fainted — her  father 
and  the  Vizier  carried  her  off"  between  them ;  nor  was  I  loth  to  part 
with  her,  for,  with  all  her  love,  she  was  was  as  ugly  as  the  deuce. 

They  were  gone — my  fate  was  decided.  I  had  but  three  hours 
more  of  life  :  so  I  fiung  myself  ag;un  on  the  sofa,  and  fell  ])rofoundly 
asleep.  As  it  may  happen  to  any  of  my  readers  to  be  in  the  same 
situation,  and  to  be  hanged  tliemselves,  let  me  earnestly  entreat 
them  to  adopt  this  })lan  of  going  to  sleep,  which  I  for  my  part  have 
repeatedly  found  to  be  successful.  It  saves  imnecessary  annoyance, 
it  passes  away  a  great  deal  of  unpleasant  time,  and  it  prepares  one 
to  meet  like  a  man  the  coming  catastrophe. 


Three  o'clock  came  :  the  sun  was  at  this  time  making  his  appear- 
ance in  the  heavens,  and  with  it  came  the  guards,  who  were  ap- 
l)ointed  to  conduct  me  to  the  torture.  I  woke,  rose,  was  carried 
out,  and  was  set  on  the  very  white  donkey  on  which  Loll  Mahom- 
med  was  conducted  through  the  camp  after  he  was  bastinadoed. 
Bobbachy  Bahawder  rode  behind  me,  restored  to  his  rank  and  state; 
troops  of  cavalry  hemmed  us  in  on  all  sides ;  ray  ass  was  conducted 
by  the  common  executioner :  a  crier  went  forward,  shouting  out, 
"  Make  way  for  the  destroyer  of  the  faithful — he  goes  to  bear  the 
punishment  of  his  crimes."  We  came  to  the  fatal  plain  :  it  was  the 
very  spot  whence  I  had  borne  away  the  elephant,  and  in  full  sight 


184   THE  TREMENDOUS  ADVENTURES  OF 

of  the  fort.  I  looked  towards  it.  Thank  Heaven  !  King  George's 
banner  waved  on  it  still — a  crowd  were  gathered  on  the  walls — the 
men,  the  dastards  who  had  deserted  me — and  women,  too.  Among 
the  latter  I  thought  I  distinguished  one  who  —  0  gods  !  the  thought 
turned  me  sick — I  trembled  and  looked  pale  for  the  first  time. 

"  He  trembles  !  he  turns  pale,"  shouted  out  Bobbachy  Bahawder, 
ferociously  exulting  over  his  conquered  enemy. 

"  Dog  !  "  shouted  I— (I  was  sitting  with  my  head  to  the  donkey's 
tail,  and  so  looked  the  Bobbachy  full  in  the  face) — "  not  so  pale  as 
you  looked  when  I  felled  you  with  tliis  arm — not  so  pale  as  your 
women  looked  when  I  entered  your  harem  ! "  Completely  chop- 
fallen,  the  Indian  ruffian  was  silent :  at  any  rate,  I  had  done  for  him. 

We  arrived  at  the  j)lace  of  execution.  A  stake,  a  couple  of  feet 
thick  and  eight  high,  was  driven  in  the  grass  :  round  the  stake,  about 
seven  feet  from  the  ground,  was  an  iron  ring,  to  which  were  attached 
two  fetters ;  in  these  my  wrists  were  placed.  Two  or  three  execu- 
tioners stood  near,  with  strange-looking  instruments :  others  were 
blowing  at  a  fire,  over  which  was  a  caldron,  and  in  the  embers  were 
stuck  prongs  and  other  instruments  of  iron. 

The  crier  came  forwanl  and  read  my  sentence.  It  was  the  same 
in  effect  as  that  which  had  been  hinted  to  me  the  day  previous  by 
the  Grand  Vizier.  I  confess  I  w<as  too  agitated  to  catch  every  word 
that  was  spoken. 

H<ilkar  himself,  on  a  tall  dromedary,  was  at  a  little  distance. 
The  Grand  Vizier  came  up  to  me — it  was  liis  duty  to  stand  by,  and 
see  the  inuiishmcnt  jtcrfonnod.      "  It  is  yet  time  ! "  said  he. 

I  nodded  my  head,  but  did  not  answer. 

The  Vizier  cast  up  to  heaven  a  look  of  inexpressible  anguish, 
and  with  a  voice  choking  with  emotion,  said,  "Executioner — do 
— i/our — duff/  .'  " 

The  horrid  man  advanced — he  whispered  sulkily  in  the  ears  of 
the  Grand  Vizier,  "  Gufj;/!}/  ka  ghee,  hum  khedr/eree,"  said  he,  "  the 
oil  does  not  boil  yet — wait  one  minute."  The  assistants  blew,  the 
fire  blazed,  the  oil  was  heated.  The  Vizier  drew  a  few  feet  aside : 
taking  a  large  ladle  full  of  the  boiling  liquid,  he  advanced 


"  Whish  !  bang,  bang  !  pop  ! "  the  executioner  was  dead  at  my 
feet,  shot  through  the  head  :  the  ladle  of  scalding  oil  had  been  dashed 
in  the  face  of  the  unliappy  Grand  Vizier,  who  lay  on  the  plain,  howl- 
ing. "  Whish  !  bang  !  pop  !  Hurrah  ! — charge  ! — forwards  ! — cut 
them  down  ! — no  quarter  !  " 

I  saw — yes,  no,  yes,  no,  yes  ! — I  saw  regiment  upon  regiment  of 


MAJOR   GAHAGAN  185 

galloping  Britisli  horsemen  riding  over  the  ranks  of  the  flying  natives. 
First  of  the  host,  I  recognised,  0  Heaven  !  my  Ahmednuggar 
Irregulars  !  On  came  the  gallant  line  of  black  steeds  and  horse- 
men ;  swift,  swift  before  them  rode  my  officers  iu  yellow — Glogger, 
Pappendick,  and   Stuffle;  their  sabres  gleamed  in  the  sun,   their 

voices  nmg  in  the  air.     "  D them  ! "  they  cried,  "  give  it  them, 

boys  !  "  A  strength  supernatural  thrilled  through  my  veins  at  that 
delicious  music  :  by  one  trementlous  eff'ort,  I  wrested  the  post  from 
its  foundation,  five  feet  in  the  ground.  I  could  not  release  my 
hands  from  the  fetters,  it  is  true  ;  but,  grasping  the  beam  tightly, 
I  sprung  forward — with  one  blow  I  levelled  the  five  executioners  in 
the  midst  of  the  fire,  their  fall  upsetting  the  scalding  oil-can ;  with 
the  next,  I  swept  the  bearers  of  Bobbachy's  palanquin  off"  their  legs ; 
with  the  tliird,  I  caught  that  cliief  himself  iu  the  small  of  the  back, 
and  sent  him  flying  on  to  the  sabres  of  my  advancing  soldiers ! 

The  next  minute,  Glogger  and  Stuffle  were  in  my  arms,  Pappen- 
dick leading  on  the  Irregulars.  Friend  and  foe  in  that  wild  chase 
had  swept  far  away.  We  were  alone  :  I  was  freed  from  my  immense 
bar ;  and  ten  minutes  afterwards,  when  Lord  Lake  trotted  up  with 
his  staff",  he  found  me  sitting  on  it. 

"Look  at  Galiagan,"  said  his  Lordship.  "Gentlemen,  did  I 
not  tell  you  we  should  be  sure  to  find  him  at  his  pout  'i  " 

The  gallant  old  nobleman  rode  on  :  and  this  was  the  famous 

BATTLE  OP   FURRUCKABAD,  Or  SURPRISE  OP  FUTTYGHUR,  fought  On 

the  17th  of  November  1804. 

About  a  month  afterwards,  the  following  announcement  appeared 
in  the  Boggleyivollah  Hurkam  and  other  Indian  papers  : — 

"  Married,  on  the  25th  of  December,  at  Futtyghur,  by  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Snorter,  Captain  Goliah  O'Grady  Gahagan,  Commanding  IiTegular 
Horse,  Ahmednuggar,  to  Belinda,  second  daughter  of  Major-General 
Bulcher,  C.B.  His  Excellency  the  Commander-in-Chief  gave  away 
the  bride  ;  and  after  a  splendid  dejeuner,  the  happy  pair  set  oft'  to 
pass  the  Mango  season  at  Hurrygurrybang.  Venus  must  recollect, 
however,  that  Mars  must  not  always  be  at  her  side.  The  Irregulars 
are  nothing  without  their  leader." 

Such  was  the  paragraph — such  the  event — the  happiest  in  the 
existence  of 

P  G.  O'G.  a,  M.H.E.LC.S.,  C.I.H.A. 


COX'S    DIARY 


COX'S    DIARY 


JANUARY— THE  ANNOUNCEMENT 

ON  the  Lst  of  January  1838,  I  was  the  master  of  a  lovely 
shoji  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Oxford  Market;  of  a  wife, 
Mrs.  Cox ;  of  a  business,  l)oth  in  the  shaving  and  cutting 
line,  established  three-and-tliirty  years  ;  of  a  girl  and  boy  respectively 
of  the  ages  of  eighteen  and  thirteen;  of  a  three-windowed  front, 
both  to  my  first  and  second  i^air ;  of  a  young  foreman,  my  prciscnt 
partner,  Mr.  Orlando  Crump ;  and  of  that  celeljrated  mixture  for 
the  human  hair,  invented  by  my  late  uncle,  and  called  Cox's 
Bohemian  Balsam  of  Tokay,  sold  in  pots  at  two-and-three  and  three- 
and-nine.  The  balsam,  the  lodgings,  and  the  old-established  cutting 
and  shaving  business  brought  me  in  a  pretty  genteel  income.  I  had 
my  girl,  Jemimarann,  at  Hackney,  to  school;  my  dear  boy,  Tugge- 
ridge,  plaited  hair  beautifully ;  my  wife  at  the  counter  (behind  the 
tray  of  patent  soaps,  &c.)  cut  as  handsome  a  figure  as  possible  ;  and 
it  was  my  hope  that  Orlando  and  my  girl,  who  were  mighty  soft 
upon  one  another,  woidtl  one  day  be  joined  together  in  Hyming, 
and,  conjointly  with  my  son  Tug,  carry  on  the  business  of  hair- 
dressers when  their  father  was  either  dead  or  a  gentleman :  for 
a  gentleman  me  and  Mrs.  C.  determined  I  should  be. 

Jemima  was,  you  see,  a  lady  herself,  aiid  of  very  high  connec- 
tions :  though  her  own  family  had  met  with  crosses  and  was  rather 
low.  Mr.  Tuggeridge,  her  father,  kept  the  famous  trii)e-sliop  near 
the  "  Pigtail  and  Sparrow,"  in  the  Whitechapel  Road ;  from  which 
place  I  married  her ;  being  myself  very  fond  of  the  article,  and 
especially  when  she  served  it  to  me — the  dear  thing ! 

Jemima's  father  was  not  successful  in  business :  and  I  married 
her,  I  am  proud  to  confess  it,  without  a  shilling.  I  had  my  hands, 
my  house,  and  my  Bohemian  balsam  to  support  her! — and  we  had 
hopes  from  her  uncle,  a  mighty  rich  East  India  merchant,  who, 
having  left  this  country  sixty  years  ago  as  a  cabin-boy,  had  arrived 
to  be  the  head  of  a  great  house  in  India,  and  was  worth  millions, 
we  v/ere  told. 
15 


I90  COX'S    DIARY 

Three  years  after  Jeniimarann  s  birth  (and  two  after  the  death 
of  my  lamented  fixther-in-law),  Tuggeridge  (head  of  the  great  house 
of  Budgurow  &  Co.)  retired  from  the  management  of  it ;  handed 
over  his  shares  to  his  son,  Mr.  John  Tuggeridge,  and  came  to  live 
in  England,  at  Portland  Place  and  Tuggeridgeville,  Surrey,  and 
enjoy  himself.  Soon  after,  my  wife  took  her  daughter  in  her  hand 
and  went,  as  in  duty  bound,  to  visit  her  uncle :  but  whether  it 
was  that  he  was  proud  and  surly,  or  she  somewhat  sharp  in  her 
way  (the  dear  girl  fears  nobody,  let  me  have  you  to  know),  a 
desperate  quarrel  took  place  "between  them ;  and  from  that  day  to 
tlie  day  of  his  death,  he  never  set  eyes  on  her.  All  that  he  would 
condescend  to  do,  was  to  take  a  few  dozen  of  lavender-water  from 
us  in  the  course  of  the  year,  and  to  send  his  servants  to  be  cut  and 
shaved  by  us.  All  the  neighbours  laughed  at  this  poor  endmg  of 
our  expectations,  for  Jemmy  had  bragged  not  a  little ;  however  we 
did  not  care,  for  the  connection  Avas  always  a  good  one,  and  we 
served  Mr.  Hock,  the  valet ;  Mr.  Bar,  tlie  coachman ;  and  Mrs. 
Breadbasket,  the  housekeeper,  willingly  enough.  I  used  to  powder 
the  footman,  too,  on  great  days,  but  never  in  my  life  saw  old 
Tuggeridge,  except  once :  when  he  said,  "  Oh,  the  barber ! "  tossed 
up  his  nose,  and  iwussed  on. 

One  day — one  famous  day  last  January — all  oiu"  Market  was 
thrown  into  a  high  state  of  excitement  by  the  appearance  of  no  less 
than  throe  vehicles  at  our  establishment.  As  me.  Jemmy,  my 
daughter.  Tug,  and  Orlando  were  sitting  in  the  back-parlour  over 
our  dinner  (it  being  Christmas-time,  Mr.  Crump  had  treated  the 
ladies  to  a  bottle  of  port,  and  was  longing  that  there  should  be  a 
mistletoe-bough  :  at  which  jiroposal  my  little  Jeniimarann  looked  as 
red  as  a  glass  of  negus)  : — we  had  just,  I  say,  finished  the  port, 
when,  all  of  a  sudden.  Tug  bellows  out,  "La,  ]ta,  here's  Uncle 
Tuggeridgc's  housekeeiier  in  a  cab  !  " 

And  Mrs.  Breadliasket  it  was,  sure  enough — Mrs.  Breadbasket 
in  deep  mourning,  who  made  her  way,  bo\\ang  and  looking  very 
sad,  into  the  back  shop.  I\Iy  wife,  who  respected  I\Irs.  B.  more 
than  anything  else  in  the  world,  set  her  a  chair,  otfered  her  a  glass 
of  wine,  and  vowed  it  was  very  kind  of  her  to  come.  "  La,  mem," 
says  Mr.  B.,  "  I'm  sure  I'd  do  anything  to  serve  your  family,  for 
the  sake  of  that  poor  dear  Tuck-Tuck-tug-guggeridge,  that's  gone." 

"That's  what?"  cries  my  wife. 

"  What,  gone  1 "  cried  Jemimarann,  bursting  out  crying  (as  little 
girls  will  about  anything  or  nothing) ;  and  Orlando  looking  very 
rueful,  and  ready  to  cry  too. 

"Yes,  gaw "     Just  as   she  was  at  this  very  "gaw,"  Tug 

roars  out,  "  La,  pa  !  here's  Mr.  Bar,  Uncle  Tug's  coachman  !  " 


THE    ANNOUNCEMENT  191 

It  was  Mr.  Bar.  When  she  saw  him,  Mrs.  Breadbasket  stepped 
suddenly  back  into  the  parlour  with  my  ladies.  "  What  is  it, 
Mr.  Bar?"  says  I;  and  as  quick  as  thought,  I  had  the  towel 
under  his  chin,  Mr.  Bar  in  the  chair,  and  the  whole  of  his  face 
in  a  beautiful  foam  of  lather.  Mr.  Bar  made  some  resistance.— 
"Don't  think  of  it,  Mr.  Cox,"  says  he;  "don't  trouble  yourself, 
sir,"  but  I  lathered  away,  and  never  minded.  "  And  what's  this 
melancholy  event,  sir,"  says  I,  "that  has  si)read  desolation  in  your 
family's  bosoms  1  I  can  feel  for  your  loss,  sir — I  can  feel  for  youi- 
loss." 

I  said  so  out  of  politeness,  because  I  served  the  fixmily,  not 
because  Tuggeridge  was  my  uncle — no,  as  such  I  disown  him. 

Mr.   Bar  was  just  about  to  speak.     "  Yes,  sir,"  says  he,  "  my 

master's  gaw "  when  at  the  "gaw,"  in  walks  Mr.  Hock,  the 

own  man  ! — the  finest  gentleman  I  ever  saw. 

"  What,  yoii  here,  Mr.  Bar  !  "  says  he. 

"  Yes,  I  am,  sir  ;  and  haven't  I  a  right,  sir  1 " 

"  A  mighty  wet  day,  sir,"  says  I  to  Mr.  Hock — stepping  up 
and  making  my  bow.  "  A  sad  circumstance  too,  sir !  And  is  it 
a  turn  of  the  tongs  that  you  want  to-day,  sir  1  Ho,  there,  Mr. 
Cramp  ! " 

"  Turn,  Mr.  Crump,  if  you  please,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Hock,  making 
a  bow;  "but  from  you,  sir,  never — no,  never,  split  me! — and  I 
wonder  how  some  fellows  can  have  the  insolence  to  allow  their 
MASTERS  to  shave  them  ! "  With  this  Mr.  Hock  flung  himself 
down  to  be  curled  :  Mr.  Bar  suddenly  opened  his  mouth  in  order 
to  reply ;  but  seeing  there  was  a  tiff  between  the  gentlemen,  and 
wanting  to  prevent  a  quarrel,  I  ranuried  the  Advertiser  into  Mr. 
Hock's  hands,  and  just  popped  my  shaving-brush  into  Mr.  Bar's 
mouth — a  capital  way  to  stop  angry  answers. 

Mr.  Bar  had  hardly  been  in  the  chair  one  second,  when  whirr 
comes  a  hackney-coach  to  the  door,  from  which  springs  a  gentleman 
in  a  black  coat  with  a  bag. 

"  What,  you  liere  ! "  says  the  gentleman.  I  could  not  holi) 
smiling,  for  it  seemed  that  everybody  was  to  begin  by  saying, 
"What,  1/ou  here!"  "Your  name  is  Cox,  sir?"  says  he,  smiling, 
too,  as  the  very  pattern  of  mine.  "  My  name,  sir,  is  Sharpus, — 
Blunt,  Hone,  and  Sharpus,  Middle  Temple  Lane, — and  I  am  proud 
to  salute  you,  sir;  happy, — that  is  to  say,  sorry  to  say,  that  Mr. 
Tuggeridge,  of  Portland  Place,  is  dead,  and  your  lady  is  heiress,  in 
consequence,  to  one  of  the  handsomest  properties  in  the  kingdom." 

At  this  I  started,  and  nught  have  sunk  to  the  groimd,  but  for 
my  hold  of  Mr.  Bar's  nose ;  Orlando  seemed  putrified  to  stone,  with 
his  irons  fixed  to  Mr   Hock's  head ;  our  respective  patients  gave  a 


792  COX'S    DIARY 

wince  out : — Mrs.  C,  Jemimaranii,  and  Tug  rushed  from  the  back 
«hop,  and  we  formed  a  splendid  tableau  such  as  the  great  Cruik- 
shank  might  have  depicted. 

"  And  Mr.  John  Tuggeridge,  sir  1 "  says  I. 

"  Why — hee,  hee,  hee  !  "  says  Mr.  Sharpus.  "  Surely  you  know 
that  he  was  only  the — hee,  hee,  hee  ! — the  natural  son  ! " 

You  now  can  understand  why  the  servants  from  Portland  Place 
had  been  so  eager  to  come  to  us.  One  of  the  housemaids  heard  Mr. 
Sliarpus  say  tliere  "was  no  "will,  and  that  my  wife  was  heir  to  tlie 
property,  and  not  Mr.  John  Tuggeridge :  this  she  told  in  the  house- 
keeper's room ;  and  off,  as  soon  as  they  heard  it,  the  "w^hole  party 
set,  in  order  to  be  the  first  to  bear  the  news. 

We  kept  them,  every  one,  in  their  old  places ;  for,  though  my 
wife  would  have  sent  them  about  their  business,  my  dear  Jemi 
marann  just  liinted,  "  Mamma,  you  know  the;/  have  been  used  to 
great  houses,  and  we  have  not ;  had  we  not  better  keep  them  for 
a  little  1 " — Keep  them,  then,  "sve  did,  to  show  us  how  to  be 
gentlefolks. 

I  handed  over  the  business  to  Mr.  Crump  without  a  single 
farthing  of  ])remium,  tliough  Jemmy  would  have  made  me  take  four 
liundred  pounds  fur  it ;  but  this  I  Avas  above :  Crump  had  served 
me  faitlifully.  and  liave  the  shop  he  should. 


FEBRUARY— FIRST  ROUT 

WE  were  speedily  installed  in  om-  fine  house  :  but  what's  a 
liouse  without  friends  1  Jemmy  made  me  cut  all  my  old 
acquaintances  in  the  Market,  and  I  was  a  solitary  being ; 
when,  luckily,  an  old  acquaintance  of  oiu's,  Captain  Tagrag,  was  so 
kind  as  to  promise  to  introduce  us  into  distinguished  society.  Tagrag 
was  the  son  of  a  baronet,  and  had  done  us  the  honour  of  lodging 
with  us  for  two  years  ;  when  we  lost  sight  of  him,  and  of  his  little 
account,  too,  by  the  way.  A  fortnight  after,  hearing  of  our  good 
fortune,  he  was  among  us  again,  however ;  and  Jemmy  was  not  a 
little  glad  to  see  him,  knowing  him  to  be  a  baronet's  son,  and  very 
fond  of  our  Jemimarann.  Indeed,  Oilando  (who  is  as  brave  as  a 
lion)  had  on  one  occasion  absolutely  beaten  Mr.  Tagrag  for  being 
rude  to  the  poor  girl  :  a  clear  proof,  as  Tagrag  said  afterwards,  that 
he  was  always  fond  of  her. 

Mr.  Cnnup,  poor  fellow,  was  not  very  much  pleased  by  our 
good  fortune,  though  he  did  all  he  could  to  try  at  first;  and  I  told 
him  to  come  and  take  his  dinner  regular,  as  if  nothing  had  happened. 
But  to  this  Jemima  very  soon  put  a  stop,  for  she  came  very  justly  to 
know  her  stature,  and  to  look  down  on  Crump,  which  she  bid  her 
daughter  to  do ;  and,  after  a  great  scene,  in  which  Orlando  showed 
himself  very  rude  and  angry,  he  was  forbidden  the  house — for  ever  ! 

So  much  for  poor  Crumi).  The  Crqjtain  was  now  all  in  all  with 
us.  "You  see,  sir,"  our  Jenuny  would  say,  "we  shall  have  our 
town  and  country  mansion,  and  a  hundred  and  thirty  thousand 
pounds  in  the  funds,  to  leave  between  our  two  children ;  and,  with 
su(;h  prospects,  they  ought  surely  to  have  the  first  society  of 
England."  To  this  Tagrag  agreed,  and  promised  to  bring  us 
acquainted  with  the  very  pink  of  the  fashion;  ay,  and  what's 
more,  did. 

First,  he  made  my  wife  get  an  opera-box,  and  give  suppers 
on  Tuesdays  and  Saturdays.  As  for  me,  he  made  me  ride  in  the 
Park  :  me  and  Jemimarann,  with  two  grooms  behind  us,  who  used 
to  laugh  all  the  way,  and  whose  very  beards  I  had  shaved.  As 
for  little  Tug,  he  was  sent  straight  off  to  the  most  fashionable  school 
in.  the  kuigdom,  the  Reverend  Dr.  Pigney's,  at  Richmond. 


194  COX'S    DIARY 

Well,  the  horses,  the  suppers,  the  opera-hox,  the  paragraphs  in 
the  papers  about  Mr.  Coxe  Coxe  (that's  the  way  :  double  your  name 
and  stick  an  "e"  to  the  end  of  it,  and  you  are  a  gentleman  at 
once),  had  an  effect  in  a  wonderfully  short  space  of  time,  and  we 
began  to  get  a  very  pretty  society  about  us.  Some  of  old  Tug's 
friends  swore  they  would  do  anything  for  the  family,  and  brought 
their  wives  and  daughters  to  see  ilear  ilrs.  Coxe  and  her  charming 
girl ;  and  when,  about  the  first  week  in  February,  we  annovmced  a 
grand  dinner  and  ball  for  the  evening  of  the  twenty-eighth,  I  assure 
you  there  was  no  want  of  company :  no,  nor  of  titles  neither ;  and 
it  always  does  my  heart  good  even  to  hear  one  mentioned. 

Let  me  see.  There  was,  first,  my  Lord  liunboozle,  an  Irish 
peer,  and  his  seven  sons,  the  Honourable  Messieurs  Trumper  (two 
only  to  dinner) ;  there  was  Count  Mace,  the  celebrated  Freud  i 
nobleman,  and  his  Excellency  Baron  von  Punter  from  Baden ;  there 
was  Lady  Blanche  Bluenose,  the  eminent  literati,  author  of  "  Tlie 
Distnisted,"  "  The  Distorted,"  "The  Disgusted,"  "  The  Disreputa])le 
One,"  and  other  poems;  there  was  the  Dowager  Latly  Max  and  her 
daughter,  the  Honourable  Miss  Adelaide  Blueruin ;  Sir  Charles 
Codshead,  from  the  Citv ;  and  Field-Marshal  Sir  Gonuan  O'Gallagher, 
K.A.,  K.B.,  K.C.,  K.W.,  K.X.,  in  tiie  service  of  the  Republic  of 
Guatemala ;  my  friend  Tagrag  and  his  fashionable  acquaintance, 
little  Tom  Tufthunt,  made  up  the  party.  And  when  the  doors 
were  flung  open,  and  Mr.  Hock,  in  black,  with  a  white  napkin,  tliree 
footmen,  coachman,  and  a  lad  whom  Mrs.  C.  had  dressed  in  sugar- 
loaf  buttons  and  called  a  page,  were  seen  round  the  dinner-table,  all 
in  wliite  gloves,  I  promise  you  I  felt  a  thrill  of  elation,  and  thought 
to  myself — Sam  Cox,  Sam  Cox,  who  ever  would  have  expected  to 
see  you  here? 

After  dinner,  there  was  to  be,  as  I  said,  an  evening  party ;  and 
to  this  Messieurs  Tagrag  and  Tufthunt  had  inWted  many  of  the 
principal  nobility  that  our  metropolis  had  produced.  When  I 
mention,  aniung  the  company  to  tea,  her  Grace  the  Duchess  of 
Zero,  her  son  the  Marquis  of  Fitzui-se,  and  the  Ladies  North  Pole 
her  daughtei-s  ;  when  I  say  that  there  were  yet  othtrs,  whose  names 
may  be  found  in  the  Blue  Book,  and  shan't,  out  of  modesty,  be 
mentioned  here,  I  think  I've  said  enough  to  show  that,  in  our  time, 
No.  96  Portland  Place  was  the  resort  of  the  best  of  company. 

It  was  our  first  dinner,  and  dressed  by  our  new  cook,  Munseer 
Cordongblew.  I  bore  it  very  well ;  eating,  for  my  share,  a  filly 
dysol  allamater  dotell,  a  cutlet  soubeast,  a  puUy  bashymall,  and 
other  French  dishes  :  and,  for  the  frisky  sweet  wine,  with  tin  tops 
to  the  bottles,  called  champang,  I  must  say  that  me  and  Mrs. 
Ccxe-Tuggeridge  Coxe  drank  a  very  good  share  of  it  (but  the  claret 


5;  ^i^^^^^^^^^v-; 


Ml- 


FIRST    ROUT  195 

and  Jonnysberger,  being  sour,  wc  did  not  much  relish).  However, 
the  feed,  as  I  say,  went  off  very  well :  Lady  Blanche  Bluenose 
sitting  next  to  me,  and  being  so  good  as  to  put  me  down  for  six 
copies  of  all  her  poems  ;  the  Count  and  Baron  von  Punter  engaging 
Jemimarann  for  several  waltzes,  and  the  Field-Marshal  plying  my 
dear  Jemmy  ^^^th  champang,  until,  bless  her !  her  dear  nose,  be- 
came as  red  as  her  new  crimson  satin  gown,  which,  with  a  blue 
turban  and  bird-of-paradise  feathers,  made  her  look  like  an  empress, 
I  warrant. 

Well,  dinner  past,  Mrs,  C.  and  the  ladies  went  off: — thunder- 
under-under  came  the  knocks  at  the  door;  scpieedle-eedle-ccdlc, 
Mr.  Wippert's  fiddlers  began  to  strike  up ;  and,  about  half-past 
eleven,  me  and  the  gents  thought  it  high  time  to  make  our  apjtear- 
ance.  I  felt  a  little  squeamish  at  the  thought  of  meeting  a  couple  of 
liundred  great  people  ;  but  Count  Mace  and  Sir  Gormart»0'Gallagher 
taking  each  an  arm,  w^e  reached,  at  last,  the  drawing-room. 

The  young  ones  in  company  W'ere  dancing,  and  the  Duchess  and 
the  gi-eat  ladies  were  all  seated,  talking  to  themselves  very  stately, 
and  working  away  at  the  ices  and  macaroons.  I  looked  out  for  my 
pretty  Jemimarann  amongst  the  dancers,  and  saw  her  tearing  round 
the  room  along  with  Baxon  Punter,  in  what  they  call  a  gahypard  ; 
then  I  peeped  into  the  circle  of  the  Duchesses,  where,  in  course, 
I  expected  to  find  Mrs.  C. ;  but  she  wasn't  there  !  She  was  seated 
at  the  further  end  of  the  room,  looking  very  sulky ;  and  I  went  up 
and  took  her  arm,  and  brought  her  down  to  the  place  where  the 
Duchesses  w^ere.  "  Oh,  not  there  !  "  said  Jemmy,  trying  to  break 
away.  "Nonsense,  my  dear,"  says  I :  "you  are  missis,  and  this  is 
your  place."  Then  going  up  to  her  Ladyship  the  Duchess,  says 
i,  "Me  and  my  missis  are  most  proud  of  the  honour  of  seeing 
of  you." 

The  Duchess  (a  tall  red-haired  grenadier  of  a  woman)  did  not 
speak. 

I  went  on :  "  The  young  ones  are  all  at  it,  ma'am,  you  see ; 
and  so  we  thought  w^e  would  come  and  sit  down  among  the  old 
ones.     You  and  I,  ma'am,  I  think,  are  too  stifi"  to  dance." 

"  Sir  !  "  says  her  Grace. 

"Ma'am,"  says  I,  "don't  you  know  me'?  My  name's  Coxe. 
Nobody's  introduced  me;  but  dash  it,  it's  my  own  house,  and  I 
may  present  myself — so  give  us  your  hand,  ma'am." 

And  I  shook  hers  in  the  kindest  way  in  the  world  :  but — would 
you  believe  it  1 — the  old  cat  screamed  as  if  my  hand  had  been  a  hot 
'tater.  "  Fitzurse  !  Fitzurse  !  "  shouted  she,  "  help  !  help  !  "  Up 
scuffled  all  the  other  Dowagers— in  rushed  the  dancers.  "Mamma  ' 
mamma!"  squeaked  Lady  Julia  North  Pole.     "Lead  me  to  n\y 


196  COX'S   DIARY 

mother,"  howled  Lady  Aurorer :  and  both  came  up  and  flung  them- 
selves into  her  arms.  "Wawt's  the  raw?"  said  Lord  Fitzurse, 
sauntering  up  quite  stately. 

"Protect  me  from  the  insults  of  this  man,"  says  her  Grace. 
"Where's  Tufthunt?  he  promised  that  not  a  soul  in  this  hoase 
should  speak  to  me." 

"  My  dear  Duchess,"  said  Tufthunt,  very  meek. 

"  Don't  Duchess  me,  sir.  Did  you  not  promise  they  should  not 
speak,  and  hasn't  that  horrid  tipsy  wretch  oficred  to  embrace  me  1 
Didn't  his  monstrous  wife  sicken  me  ■\\ith  her  odious  familiarities  1 
Call  my  people,  Tufthunt !     Follow  me,  my  children  ! " 

"  And  my  carriage  ! "  "  And  mine  ! "  "  And  mine  !  "  shouted 
twenty  more  voices.  And  doAvn  they  all  trooped  to  the  hall :  Lady 
Blanche  Bluenose  and  Lady  Max  among  the  very  first ;  leaving  only 
the  Field-MaB'shal  and  one  or  two  men,  who  roared  with  laughter 
ready  to  spht. 

"  Oh,  Sam,"  said  my  wife,  sobbing,  "  why  would  you  take  me 
back  to  tliem ?  they  had  sent  me  aM^ay  before  !  I  only  asked  the 
Duchess  wliether  she  didn't  like  rum-shrub  better  than  all  your 
Maxarinos  and  Curasosos :  and — would  you  believe  it  ? — all  the 
company  burst  out  laughing;  and  the  Duchess  told  me  just  to  keep 
off,  and  not  to  speak  till  I  was  spoken  to.  Imperence  !  I'd  like  to 
tear  her  eyes  out." 

And  so  I  do  believe  my  dearest  Jemmy  woidd ! 


MARCH— A    DAY   WITH   THE   SURREY  HOUNDS 

OUR  ball  had  failed  so  completely  that  Jemmy,  who  was  bent 
still  upon  fashion,  caught  eagerly  at  Tagrag's  suggestion, 
and  went  down  to  Tuggeridgeville.  If  we  had  a  difficulty 
to  find  friends  in  town,  here  there  was  none :  for  the  whf)le  county 
came  about  us,  ate  our  dinners  and  sujjpers,  danced  at  our  balls — 
ay,  and  spoke  to  us  too.  We  were  great  people  in  fact :  I  a  regular 
country  gentleman ;  and  as  such  Jemmy  insisted  that  I  should  be  a 
sportsman,  and  join  the  county  hunt.  "But,"  says  I,  "my  love,  I 
can't  ride."  "Pooh!  Mr.  C,"  said  she,  "you're  always  making 
difficulties  :  you  thought  you  couldn't  dance  a  quadrille  ;  you  thought 
you  couldn't  dine  at  seven  o'clock ;  you  thought  you  couldn't  lie  in 
bed  after  six ;  and  haven't  you  done  every  one  of  these  things  ? 
You  must  and  you  shall  ride  ! "  And  when  my  Jemmy  said  "  must 
and  shall,"  I  knew  very  well  there  was  nothing  for  it :  so  I  sent 
down  fifty  guineas  to  the  hunt,  and,  out  of  compliment  to  me,  the 
very  next  week,  I  received  notice  that  the  meet  of  the  hoiuuls  would 
take  place  at  Squashtail  Common,  just  outside  my  lodge-gates. 

I  didn't  know  what  a  meet  was  ;  and  me  and  Mrs.  (J.  agreed 
that  it  was  most  probable  the  dogs  were  to  be  fed  there.  However, 
Tagrag  explained  this  matter  to  us,  and  very  kindly  promised  to  sell 
me  a  horse,  a  delightful  animal  of  his  own  ;  which,  being  desjieratoly 
pressed  for  money,  he  woiUd  let  me  have  for  a  hundred  guineas,  he 
himself  having  given  a  hundred  and  fifty  for  it. 

Well,  the  Thursday  came :  the  hounds  met  on  Squashtail  Common ; 
Mrs.  0.  turned  out  in  her  barouche  to  see  us  throw  off ;  and,  l)eing 
helped  up  on  my  chestnut  horse.  Trumpeter,  by  Tagrag  and  my 
head  groom,  I  came  presently  round  to  join  them. 

Tag  mounted  his  own  horse;  and,  as  we  walked  down  the 
avenue,  "  I  thought,"  he  said,  "you  told  me  you  knew  how  to  ride ; 
and  that  you  had  ridden  once  fifty  miles  on  a  stretch  ! " 

"And  so  I  did,"  says  I,  "to  Cambridge,  and  on  the  box  too." 

"On  the  box!''  says  he ;  "but  did  you  ever  mount  a  horse  before?" 

"  Never,"  says  I,  "  but  I  find  it  mighty  easy." 

"  Well,"  says  he,  "  you're  mighty  bold  for  a  barber ;  and  I  like 
you,  Coxe,  for  your  spirit."     And  so  we  came  out  of  the  gate. 


198  COX'S    DIARY 

As  for  describing  the  hunt,  I  own,  fairly,  I  can't.  I've  been  at 
a  hunt,  but  what  a  hunt  is — why  the  horses  will  go  among  the 
dogs  and  ride  them  down — why  the  men  cry  out  "  yooooic  " — why 
the  dogs  go  snuffing  about  in  threes  and  fours,  and  the  huntsman 
says,  "  Good  Towler — good  Betsy,"  and  we  all  of  us  after  him  say, 
"  Good  Towler — good  Betsy  "  in  course  :  then,  after  hearing  a  yelp 
here  and  a  howl  there,  tow,  row,  vow,  yow,  vow  !  burst  out,  all  of 
a  sudden,  from  three  or  four  of  them,  and  the  chap  in  a  velvet  cap 
screeches  out  (with  a  number  of  oaths  I  shan't  repeat  here),  "  Hark, 
to  Ringwood  ! "  and  then,  "  There  he  goes  ! "  says  some  one ;  and 
all  of  a  sudden,  lielter  skelter,  skurry  hurry,  slap  bang,  whooping, 
screeching  and  hurraing,  blue-coats  and  red-coats,  bays  and  greys, 
horses,  dogs,  donkeys,  butchers,  baro-knights,  dustmen,  and  bhu^k- 
gnard  boys,  go  tearing  all  together  over  the  common  after  two  or 
three  of  the  pack  that  yowl  loudest.  Why  all  this  is,  I  can't  say  ; 
but  it  all  took  place  the  second  Thursday  of  last  March  in  my 
presence. 

Up  to  this,  I'd  kept  my  seat  as  well  as  the  best,  for  we'd  only 
been  trotting  geiitly  about  the  field  until  the  dogs  found  ;  and  I 
managed  to  stick  on  very  well ;  but  directly  the  tow-rowing  began, 
off  went  Trumpeter  like  a  thunderbolt,  and  I  found  myself  playing 
among  the  dogs  like  the  donkey  among  the  chickens.  "Back,  Mr. 
Coxe,"  holloas  the  huntsman  ;  and  so  I  pulled  very  hard,  and  cried 
out,  "  Wo  ! "  but  he  wouldn't ;  anil  on  I  went  galloping  for  the 
dear  life.  Hmv  I  kept  on  is  a  Avonder;  but  I  sijueczed  my  knees  in 
very  tight,  ami  slioved  my  feet  very  hard  into  the  stirrups,  and  kept 
stiff"  hold  of  the  scruff"  of  Trumpeter's  neck,  and  looked  betwixt  his 
ears  as  well  as  ever  I  could,  and  tnisted  to  luck :  for  I  was  in  a 
mortal  fright,  sure  enough,  as  many  a  better  man  would  be  in  such 
a  case,  let  alone  a  j)oor  hairdresser. 

As  for  the  hounds,  after  my  first  riding  in  among  them,  I  tell 
you  honestly,  I  never  saw  so  much  as  the  tip  of  one  of  their  tails ; 
nothing  in  this  world  did  I  see  except  Trumpeter's  dun-coloured 
mane,  and  that  I  gripped  firm  :  riding,  by  the  blessing  of  luck,  safe 
through  the  walking,  the  trotting,  the  galloping,  and  never  so  much 
as  getting  a  tumble. 

There  was  a  cliap  at  Croydon  very  well  known  as  the  "  Spicy 
Dustman,"  wlio,  when  he  could  get  no  horse  to  ride  to  the  hounds, 
turned  rep;ularly  out  on  his  donkey;  and  on  this  occasion  made  one 
<if  us.  He  generally  managed  to  keep  uj)  with  the  dogs  by  trotting 
ijuietly  through  the  cross-roads,  and  knowing  the  country  well. 
Well,  having  a  good  guess  where  the  hounds  would  find,  and  the 
line  that  sly  Reynolds  (as  they  call  the  fox)  would  take,  the  Spicy 
Dustman   turned  his  animal   down  the   lane   from  Squashtail   to 


W 

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A   DAY    WITH    THE    SURREY    HOUNDS      199 

Cutshins  Common;  across  which,  sure  eiiou|,di,  came  the  whole 
himt.  There's  a  small  hedge  and  a  remarkably  fine  ditch  here : 
some  of  the  leading  cliaps  took  both,  in  gallant  style ;  others  went 
round  by  a  gate,  and  so  would  I,  only  I  couldn't ;  for  Trumpeter 
would  have  the  hedge,  and  be  hanged  to  him,  and  went  right  for  it. 

Hoop  !  if  ever  you  did  try  a  leap  !  Out  go  your  legs,  out  fling 
your  arms,  oft'  goes  your  hat ;  and  the  next  thing  you  feel — that  is, 
/  did — is  a  most  tremendous  thwack  across  the  chest,  and  my  feet 
jerked  out  of  the  stirrups  :  me  left  in  the  branches  of  a  tree  ; 
Trumpeter  gone  clean  from  under  me,  and  walloping  and  floundering 
in  the  ditch  underneath.  One  of  the  stirrup-leathers  had  caught 
in  a  stake,  and  the  horse  couldn't  get  away :  and  neither  of  us, 
I  thought,  ever  would  have  got  away :  but  all  of  a  sudden,  who 
should  come  up  the  lane  but  the  Spicy  Dustman ! 

"  Holloa  !  "  says  I,  "  you  gent,  just  let  us  down  from  this  here 
tree ! " 

"  Lor' !  "  says  he,  "  I'm  blest  if  I  didn't  take  you  for  a  robin." 

"  Let's  down,"  says  I ;  but  he  was  all  the  time  employed  in  dis- 
engaging Trumjieter,  whom  he  got  out  of  the  ditch,  trembling  and 
as  quiet  as  possil)le.  "Let's  down,"  says  I.  "Presently,"  says  he  ; 
and  taking  oft"  his  coat,  he  begins  whistling  and  swishing  down 
Trumpeter's  sides  and  saddle ;  and  when  he  had  finished,  what  do 
you  think  the  rascal  did  ? — he  just  quietly  mounted  on  Trumpeter's 
back,  and  shouts  out,  "  Git  down  yourself,  old  Bearsgrease ;  you've 
only  to  drop  !  Fll  give  your  'oss  a  hairing  arter  them  'ounds  ;  and 
you — vy,  you  may  ride  back  my  pony  to  Tuggeridgeweal ! "  And 
with  this,  I'm  blest  if  he  didn't  ride  away,  leaving  me  holding,  as  for 
the  dear  life,  and  expecting  every  minute  the  branch  would  break. 

It  did  break  too,  and  down  I  came  into  the  slush ;  and  when  I 
got  out  of  it,  I  can  tell  you  I  didn't  look  much  like  the  Venuses  or 
the  Apoller  Belvidearis  what  I  used  to  dress  and  titivate  up  for  my 
shop  window  when  I  was  in  the  hairdressing  line,  or  smell  quite  so 
elegant  as  our  rose-oil.     Faugh  ;  what  a  figure  I  was  ! 

I  had  nothing  for  it  but  to  mofcnt  the  dustman's  donkey  (whicli 
was  very  quietly  cropping  grass  in  the  hedge),  and  to  make  my  way 
home ;  and  after  a  weary,  weary  journey,  I  arrived  at  my  own  gate. 

A  whole  i)arty  was  assembled  there.  Tagrag,  who  had  come 
back ;  their  Excellencies  Mace  and  Punter,  who  were  on  a  visit ;  and 
a  number  of  horses  walking  up  and  down  before  the  whole  of  the 
gentlemen  of  the  hunt,  who  had  come  in  after  losing  their  fox  ! 
"  Here's  Squire  Coxe ! "  shouted  the  grooms.  Out  rushed  the 
servants,  out  poured  the  gents  of  the  hunt,  and  on  trotted  pool-  me, 
digging  into  the  donkey,  and  everybody  dying  with  laughter  at  me. 

Just  as  I  got  up  to  the  door,  a  horse  came  galloping  up,  aaid 
16 


200  COX'S    DIARY 

passed  me ;  a  man  jumped  down,  and  taking  off  a  fontail  hat,  came 
up,  very  gravely,  to  help  me  dowTi. 

"  Squire,'  says  he,  "  how  came  you  by  that  there  hanimal?  Jiet 
git  down,  will  you,  and  give  it  to  its  howner  ? " 

"  Rascal !  "  says  I,  "  didn't  you  ride  <iff  on  my  horse  1 " 

"  Was  there  ever  sit-h  ingratitude  ? '"  s;iys  the  Spicy.  "  I  found 
this  year  'oss  in  a  pond,  I  siives  him  from  drowning,  I  brings  him 
bark  to  his  master,  and  ho  falls  me  a  nusi-al ! " 

The  grooms,  the  gents,  the  ladies  in  tlie  lialcoiiy,  my  own 
servants,  all  wt  up  a  rojir  at  this  ;  and  so  would  I,  only  I  was  so 
deu('('<lly  ashamed,  as  not  to  be  able  t<»  laugh  just  then. 

An<l  .so  my  first  day's  hunting  end<(l.  Tagnig  and  the  rest 
declared  I  shownl  great  pluck,  anil  wanted  me  to  try  again ;  but 
"No,"  .^ays  I,  "I  /,<nr  U-en." 


APRIL— THE  FINISHING   TOUCH 

I  WAS  always  fond  of  billiards  ;  and,  in  former  days,  at  Grogram's 
in  Greek  Street,  where  a  few  jolly  lads  of  my  aequaintance  used 
to  meet  twice  a  week  for  a  game,  and  a  snug  pij^e  and  beer,  I 
wjis  generally  voted  the  first  man  of  the  club;  and  could  take  five 
from  John  the  marker  himself,  I  had  a  genius,  in  fact,  for  the 
game ;  and  now  that  I  was  placed  in  that  station  of  life  where  I 
could  cultivate  my  talents,  I  gave  them  full  play,  and  improved 
amazingly.  I  do  say  that  I  tliink  myself  as  good  a  hand  as  any 
chap  in  England. 

The  Count  and  his  Excellency  Baron  von  Punter  were,  I  can 
tell  you,  astonished  by  the  smartness  of  my  play ;  the  first  two  or 
three  nibbers  Punter  beat  me,  but  when  I  came  to  know  his  game, 
I  used  to  knock  him  all  to  sticks ;  or,  at  least,  win  six  games  to  his 
four ;  and  such  was  the  betting  upon  me,  his  Excellency  losing 
large  sums  to  the  Count,  who  knew  what  play  was,  and  used  to 
back  me.  I  did  not  play  except  for  shillings,  so  my  skill  was  of 
ilo  great  sennce  to  me. 

One  day  I  entered  the  billiard-room  wdiere  these  three  gentle- 
men were  high  in  words.  "  The  thing  shall  not  be  done,"  I  heard 
Captain  Tagrag  say,  "I  won't  stand  it." 

"Vat,  begause  you  would  have  de  bird  idl  to  yourzelf,  hey?" 
said  the  Baron. 

"  You  sail  not  have  a  single  fezare  of  him,  begar,"  said  the 
Count :  "  ve  vill  blow  you.  Monsieur  de  Taguerague ;  parole 
(Thonneur,  ve  vill." 

"What's  all  this,  gents,"  says  I,  stepping  in,  "about  birds  and 
feathers  ] " 

"Oh,"  says  Tagrag,  "we  were  talking  about — about —pigeon- 
shooting  ;  the  Count  here  says  he  will  blow  a  bird  all  to  i)ieces  at 
twenty  yards,  and  I  said  I  wouldn't  stand  it,  because  it  was  regular 
murder." 

"  Oh,  yase,  it  was  bidgeon-shooting,"  cries  the  Baron  :  "  and  I 
know  no  better  short. .  Have  you  been  bidgeon-shooting,  my  dear 
Squire  ?     De  fon  is  gabidal." 

"  No  doubt,"  says  I,  "  for  the  shooters,  but  mighty  bad  sport 


202  COX'S    DIARY 

for  the  pigeon."  And  this  joke  set  them  all  a-laughing  ready  to 
die.  I  didn't  know  then  what  a  good  joke  it  was,  neither ;  but  I 
gave  Master  Baron,  that  day,  a  precious  good  beating,  and  walked 
off  with  no  less  than  fifteen  shillings  of  his  money. 

As  a  sporting  man,  and  a  man  of  fashion,  I  need  not  say  that  I 
took  in  the  Flare-^ip  regularly ;  ay,  and  WTote  one  or  two  trifles  in 
that  celebrated  publication  (one  of  my  papers,  which  Tagrag  sub- 
scribed for  me,  Philo-pestitiaeamicus,  on  the  proper  sauce  for  teal 
and  widgeon — and  the  other,  signed  Scru-tatos,  on  the  best  mean': 
of  cultivating  the  kidney  species  of  that  vegetable — made  no  small 
noise  at  the  time,  and  got  me  in  the  paper  a  compliment  from  the 
editor).  I  was  a  constant  reader  of  the  Notices  to  Correspondents, 
and,  my  early  education  having  been  rayther  neglected  (for  I  was 
taken  from  my  studies  and  set,  as  is  the  custom  in  our  trade,  to 
practise  on  a  slieep's  head  at  tlie  tender  age  of  nine  years,  before  I 
was  allowed  to  venture  on  the  humane  countenance), — I  say,  being 
thus  curtailed  and  cut  off  in  my  classical  learning,  I  must  confess  I 
managed  to  pick  up  a  pretty  smattering  of  genteel  information  from 
that  treasury  of  all  sorts  of  knowledge ;  at  least  sufficient  to  make 
me  a  match  in  learning  for  all  the  noblemen  and  gentlemen  who 
came  to  our  house.  Well,  on  looking  over  the  Flare-up  Notices  to 
Correspondents,  I  read,  one  day  last  April,  among  the  Notices,  as 
follows : — 

"  '  Automodou.' — We  do  not  know  the  precise  age  of  Mr.  Baker, 
of  Covent  Garden  Theatre  :  nor  are  we  aware  if  that  celebrated  son 
of  Thespis  is  a  married  man. 

"  '  Ducks  and  Green-peas '  is  informed,  that  when  A  plays  his 
rook  to  B's  second  Knight's  square,  and  B,  moving  two  squares 
with  his  Queen's  ]»awn,  gives  check  to  his  adversary's  Queen,  there 
is  no  rea.son  why  B's  Queen  should  not  take  A's  pawn,  if  B  be  so 
inclined. 

"  '  F.  L.  S.' — We  have  repeatedly  answered  the  question  about 
Madame  Vestris  :  her  maiden  name  was  Bartolozzi,  and  .slie  married 
the  son  of  Cliarles  Mathews,  the  celebrated  comedian. 

"  '  Fair  Play.' — The  best  amateur  billiard  and  (icart^  player  in 
England  is  Coxe-Tuggeridge  Coxe,  Esq.,  of  Portland  Place,  and 
Tuggeridgeville  :  Jonathan,  who  knows  his  play,  can  only  give  him 
two  in  a  game  of  a  hundred ;  and,  at  the  cards,  no  man  is  his 
superior.      Verfnim  sojk 

"  '  Scipio  Americanus '  is  a  blockhead." 

I  read  this  out  to  the  Count  and  Tagrag,  and  both  of  them 
wondered  huw  the  Editor  of  that  tremendous  Flare-up  should  get 


THE    FINISHING    TOUCH  203 

such  information ;  and  botli  agreed  that  the  Baron,  who  still  piqued 
himself  absurdly  on  his  i^lay,  would  be  vastly  annoyed  by  seeing 
me  preferred  thus  to  himself.  We  read  him  the  paragi'aph,  and 
preciously  angry  he  vfus.  "  Id  is,"  he  cried,  "  the  tables  "  (or  "  de 
dabels,"  as  he  called  them), — "  de  horrid  dables ;  gom  viz  me  to 
London,  and  dry  a  slate- table,  and  I  vill  beat  you."  We  all  roared  at 
this  ;  and  the  end  of  the  dispute  was,  that,  just  to  satisfy  the  fellow, 
I  agreed  to  play  his  Excellency  at  slate-tables,  or  any  tables  he  chose. 
"  Gut,"  says  he,  "  gut ;  I  lif,  you  know,  at  Abcdnego's,  in  de 
Quadrant ;  his  dabels  is  goot ;  ve  vill  blay  dere,  if  you  vill."  And 
I  said  I  would :  and  it  was  agreed  that,  one  Saturday  night,  when 
Jemmy  was  at  the  Opera,  we  should  go  to  the  Baron's  rooms,  and 
give  him  a  chance. 

We  went,  and  the  little  Baron  had  as  fine  a  supper  as  ever  I 
saw :  lots  of  champang  (and  I  didn't  mind  drinking  it),  and  plenty 
of  laughing  and  fun.  Afterwards,  down  we  went  to  billiards.  "  Is 
dish  Misther  Coxsh,  de  shelebrated  player?"  says  Mr.  Abednego, 
who  was  in  the  room,  with  one  or  two  gentlemen  of  his  own  per- 
suasion, and  several  foreign  noblemen,  dirty,  snuffy,  and  hairy,  as 
them  foreigners  are.  "  Is  dish  Misther  Coxsh  1  blesh  my  hart ;  it 
is  a  honer  to  see  you ;  T  have  heard  so  much  of  your  play." 

"Come,  come,"  says  I,   "sir" — for  I'm  pretty  wide  awake — 
"  none  of  your  gammon  ;  you're  not  going  to  hook  me." 
"  No,  begar,  dis  fish  you  not  catch,"  says  Count  Mace. 
"  Dat  is  gut ! — haw  !  haw  !  "  snorted  the  Baron.     "  Hook  him  ! 
Lieber  Ilimmel,   you  might  dry   and   hook  me    as  well.     Haw ! 
Haw ! " 

Well,  we  went  to  play.  "  Five  to  four  on  Coxe,"  screams  out 
the  Count. — "  Done  and  done,"  says  another  nobleman.  "  Ponays," 
says  the  Count.— " Done,"  says  the  nobleman.  "I  vill  take  your 
six  cromis  to  four,"  says  the  Baron.—"  Done,"  says  I.  And,  in  the 
twinkling  of  an  eye,  I  beat  him ;  once  making  thirteen  off  the  balls 
without  stopping. 

We  had  some  more  wine  after  this ;  and  if  you  could  have 
seen  the  long  faces  of  the  other  noblemen,  as  they  pulled  out  their 
pencils  and  wrote  I.O.U.'s  <for  the  Count !  "  Va  toujours,  mon  cher," 
says  he  to  me,  "  you  have  von  for  me  three  hundred  pounds." 

"  I'll  blay  you  guineas  dis  time,"  says  the  Baron.  "  Zeven  to 
four  you  must  give  me  though."  And  so  I  did  ;  and- in  ten  minutes 
that  game  was  won,  and  the  Baron  handed  over  his  pounds.  "  Tm-o 
hundred  and  sixty  more,  my  dear,  dear  Coxe,"  says  the  Count; 
"  you  are  mon  ange  gardien  !  "  "  Wot  a  flat  Misther  Coxsh  is, 
not  to  back  his  luck,"  I  heard  Abednego  whisper  to  one  of  the 
foreign  noblemen. 


204  COX'S    DIARY 

"I'll  take  your  seven  to  four,  in  tens,"  said  I  to  the  Baron. 
"  Give  me  three,"  says  he,  "  and  done."  I  gave  him  three,  and 
lost  the  game  by  one.  "  Dobbel,  or  quits,"  says  he.  "  Go  it," 
says  I,  up  to  my  mettle  :  "  Sam  Coxe  never  says  no ; " — and  to  it 
we  went.  I  went  in,  and  scored  eighteen  to  his  five.  "  Holy 
Moshesh  ! "  says  Abednego,  "  dat  little  Coxsh  is  a  vonder !  who'll 
take  odds  1 " 

"  I'll  give  twenty  to  one,"  says  I,  "  in  guineas." 

"  Ponays  !  yase,  done,"  screams  out  the  Count. 

"  Bonies,  done,"  roars  out  the  Baron  :  and,  before  I  could  speak, 
went  in,  and — would  you  believe  it  1 — in  two  minutes  he  somehow 
made  the  game ! 

•  •••••• 

Oh,  what  a  figure  I  out  when  my  dear  Jemmy  heard  of  thi.s 
afterwards  !  In  vain  I  swore  it  wa.s  guinea.s  :  the  Count  and  the 
Baron  swore  to  ponies  ;  and  when  I  refuseil,  they  both  said  their 
honour  was  concenied,  and  they  must  have  my  life,  or  their  money. 
So  when  the  Count  showed  me  actually  that,  in  spite  of  this  bet 
(which  had  been  too  good  to  resist)  won  from  me,  he  had  been  a 
very  hejivy  loser  by  the  night ;  and  brought  me  the  word  of  honour 
of  Abednego,  his  Jewish  friend,  and  the  foreign  noblemen,  that 
ponies  had  been  l>etted  ; — wliy,  I  paid  them  one  thousand  pounds 
sterling  of  good  and  lawful  money. — But  I've  not  played  for  money 
since  :  no,  no ;  catch  me  at  that  again  if  you  can. 


MAY— A   NEW  DROP-SCENE  AT  THE   OPERA 

NO  lady  is  a  lady  without  having  a  box  at  the  Opera :  so  my 
Jemmy,  who  knew  as  mucli  about  music, — bless  her  ! — as  I 
do  about  Sanscrit,  algebra,  or  any  other  foreign  language, 
took  a  prime  box  on  the  second  tier.  It  was  what  they  called  a 
double  box  ;  it  really  could  hold  two,  that  is,  very  comfortably ; 
and  we  got  it  a  great  bargain — for  five  lumdred  a  year !  Here, 
Tuesdays  and  Satin-days,  we  used  regularly  to  take  our  places. 
Jemmy  and  Jemimarann  sitting  in  front ;  me,  behind :  but  as  my 
dear  wife  used  to  wear  a  large  fantail  gauze  hat  with  ostrich 
feathers,  birds-of-paradise,  artificial  flowers,  and  tags  of  muslin  or 
satin,  scattered  all  over  it,  I'm  blest  if  she  didn't  fill  the  whole  of 
the  front  of  the  box ;  and  it  was  only  by  jumping  and  dodging, 
three  or  four  times  in  the  (;ourse  of  the  night,  that  I  could  manage 
to  get  a  sight  of  the  actors.  By  kneeling  down,  and  looking  steady 
under  my  darling  Jemmy's  sleeve,  I  did  contrive,  every  now  and 
then,  to  have  a  peep  of  Senior  Lablash's  boots,  in  tlie  "  Puritanny," 
and  once  actually  saw  Madame  Greasi's  crown  and  head-dress  in 
"  Annybalony." 

What  a  place  tliat  Opera  is,  to  be  sure  !  and  what  enjoyments 
us  aristocracy  used  to  have  !  Just  as  you  have  swallowed  down 
your  three  courses  (three  curses  I  used  to  call  them  ; — for  so,  indeed, 
they  are,  causing  a  great  deal  of  heartburns,  headaches,  doctor's 
bills,  pills,  want  of  sleep,  and  such  like) — ^just,  I  say,  as  you  get 
down  your  three  courses,  which  I  defy  any  man  to  enjoy  properly 
imless  he  has  two  hours  of  drink  and  quiet  afterwards,  up  comes 
the  carriage,  in  bursts  my  Jemmy,  as  fine  as  a  duchess,  and  scented 
like  our  shop.  "Come,  my  dear,"  says  she,  "it's  'Normy'  to- 
night" (or  "Annybalony,"  or  the  "Nosey  di  Figaro,"  or  the 
"  Gazzylarder,"  as  the  case  may  be).  "  Mr.  Coster  strikes  oft 
punctually  at  eight,  and  you  know  it's  the  fashion  to  be  always 
present  at  the  very  first  bar  of  tlie  aperture."  And  so  oft'  we  are 
obliged  to  budge,  to  be  miserable  for  five  hoiu-s  and  to  have  a 
headache  for  the  next  twelve,  and  all  because  it's  the  fashion  ! 

After  the  aperture,  as  they  call  it,  comes  the  opera,  which,  as  I 
am  given   to   understand,  is  the  Italian   for  singing.      Why  they 


2o6  COX'S    DIARY 

should  sing  in  Italian,  I  can't  conceive ;  or  why  they  should  do 
nothing  but  sing.  Bless  us  !  how  I  iised  to  long  for  the  wooden 
magpie  in  the  "  Gazzylarder  "  to  fly  up  to  the  top  of  the  church- 
steeple,  with  the  silver  spoons,  and  see  the  chaps  with  the  pitchforks 
come  in  and  carry  off  that  wicked  Don  June.  Not  that  I  don't 
admire  Lablash,  and  Rubini,  and  his  brother,  Tomrubini  :  him  who 
has  that  fine  bass  voice,  I  mean,  and  acts  the  Corporal  in  the  first 
piece,  and  Don  June  in  the  second ;  but  three  hours  is  a  little  too 
much,  for  you  can't  sleep  on  those  little  rickety  seats  in  the  boxes. 

The  opera  is  bad  enough  ;  but  what  is  that  to  the  bally  ?  You 
should  have  seen  my  Jemmy  the  fii-st  night  when  she  stopped  to 
see  it ;  and  when  Madamsalls  Fanny  and  Theresa  Hustler  came 
forward,  along  with  a  gentleman,  to  dance,  you  should  have  seen 
how  Jenmiy  stared,  and  oiu"  girl  blushed,  when  Madamsall  Fanny, 
coming  forward,  stood  on  the  tips  of  only  five  of  her  toes,  and 
raising  up  the  other  five,  and  the  foot  belonging  to  them,  almost  to 
her  shoulder,  twirled  round,  and  round,  and  round,  like  a  teetotum, 
for  a  cou})le  of  minutes  or  more ;  and  as  she  settled  down,  at  last, 
on  both  feet,  in  a  natural  decent  posture,  you  should  have  heard 
how  the  house  roared  with  applause,  the  boxes  clapping  with  all 
their  might,  and  waving  their  handkerchiefs ;  the  pit  shouting 
"  Bravo ! "  Some  people,  who,  I  sui)i)ose,  were  rather  angry  at 
such  an  exhibition,  threw  bunches  of  flowers  at  her ;  and  what  do 
you  think  she  did  ?  ^Vhy,  hang  me,  if  she  did  not  come  forward, 
as  though  notliing  had  happened,  gather  up  the  things  they  had 
throwni  at  her,  smile,  press  them  to  her  heart,  and  begin  whirling 
roinid  again,  fiister  than  ever.  Talk  about  coolness,  /  never  saw 
such  in  all  my  born  days. 

"  Nasty  thing  !  "  says  Jemmy,  starting  up  in  a  fury ;  "  if  women 
will  act  so,  it  serves  them  right  to  be  treated  so." 

"  Oh  yes  !  she  acts  beautifully,"  says  our  friend  his  Excellency, 
who,  along  with  Baron  von  Punter  and  Tagrag,  used  very  seldom  to 
miss  coming  to  our  box. 

"  She  may  act  very  beautifully,  Munseer,  but  she  don't  dress  so  ; 
and  I  am  very  glad  they  tlircw  tliat  orange-peel  and  all  those  things 
at  her,  and  that  the  people  waved  to  her  to  get  oti." 

Here  his  Excellency,  and  the  Baron  and  Tag,  set  up  a  roar  of 
laughter. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Coxe,"  says  Tag,  "  those  are  the  most  famous 
dancere  in  the  world ;  and  we  throw  myrtle,  geraniums,  and  lilies 
and  roses  at  them,  in  token  of  our  immense  admiration  !  " 

"  Well,  I  never ! "  said  my  wife ;  and  poor  Jemimarann  slunk 
behind  the  curtain,  and  looked  as  red  as  it  almost.  After,  the  one 
had  done,  the  next  began ;  but  when,  all  of  a  sudden,  a  somebody 


A    NEW    DROP-SCENE    AT    THE    OPERA      207 

came  skipping  and  bounding  in  like  an  Indian-rubber  ball,  flinging 
itself  up  at  least  six  feet  from  the  stage,  and  there  shaking  about 
its  legs  like  mad,  we  were  more  astonished  tlian  ever ! 

•'  That's  Anatole,"  says  one  of  the  gentlemen. 

"Anna  who?"  says  my  wife  ;  and  she  might  well  be  mistaken  : 
for  this  person  iiad  a  hat  and  feathers,  a  bare  neck  and  arms,  gi'eat 
black  ringlets,  and  a  little  calico  frock,  which  came  down  to  the 
knees. 

"  Anatole.  You  would  not  think  he  was  sixty-three  years  old, 
he's  as  active  as  a  man  of  twenty." 

''He!"  shrieked  out  my  wife;  "what,  is  that  there  a  man"?  For 
shame,  Muuseer !  Jemimarann,  dear,  get  your  cloak,  and  come  along ; 
and  I'll  thank  you,  my  dear,  to  call  our  people,  and  let  us  go  home." 

You  wouldn't  think,  after  this,  that  my  Jemmy,  who  had  shown 
such  a  horror  at  the  bally,  as  they  call  it,  should  ever  grow  accustomed 
to  it ;  but  she  liked  to  hear  her  name  shoixted  out  in  the  crush-room, 
and  so  would  stop  till  the  end  of  everything ;  and,  law  bless  you  ! 
in  three  weeks  from  that  time,  she  could  look  at  the  bally  as  she 
would  at  a  dancing-dog  in  the  streets,  and  would  bring  her  double- 
barrelled  opera-glass  up  to  her  eyes  as  coolly  as  if  she  had  been  a 
born  duchess.  As  for  me,  I  did  at  Rome  as  Rome  does ;  and  precious 
fun  it  used  to  be,  sometimes. 

My  friend  the  Baron  insisted  one  night  on  my  going  behind  the 
.  scenes ;  where,  being  a  subscriber,  he  said  I  had  what  they  call  my 
ontray.  Behind,  then,  I  went ;  and  such  a  place  you  never  saw 
nor  heard  of !  Fancy  lots  of  young  and  old  gents  of  the  fashion 
crowding  round  and  staring  at  the  actresses  practising  their  steps. 
Fancy  yellow  snuft'y  foreigners,  chattering  always,  and  smelling  fear- 
fully of  tobacco.  Fancy  scores  of  Jews,  with  hooked  noses  and 
black  muzzles,  covered  with  rings,  chains,  sham  diamonds,  and  gold 
waistcoats.  Fancy  old  men  dressed  in  old  nightgowns,  witli  knock- 
knees,  and  dirty  flesh-coloured  cotton  stockings,  and  dabs  of  brickdust 
on  their  wrinkled  old  chops,  and  tow-wigs  (such  wigs  !)  for  the  bald 
ones,  and  great  tin  spears  in  their  hands  mayhap,  or  else  shepherd's 
crooks,  and  fusty  garlands  of  flowers  made  of  red  and  green  baize. 
Fancy  troops  of  girls  giggling,  chattering,  pushing  to  and  fro,  amidst 
old  black  canvas,  Gothic  halls,  thrones,  pasteboard,  Cupids,  dragons, 
and  such  like.  Such  dirt,  darkness,  crowd,  confusion  and  gabble  of 
all  conceivable  languages  was  never  known  ! 

If  you  could  but  have  seen  Munseer  Anatole  !  Instead  of  looking 
twenty  he  looked  a  thousand.  The  old  man's  wig  was  ofl",  an(l  a 
barber  was  giving  it  a  touch  with  the  tongs ;  Munseer  was  taking 
snuff"  himself,  anil  a  boy  was  standing  by  with  a  pint  of  beer  from 
the  public-house  at  the  corner  of  Charles  Street. 


2o8  COX'S   DIARY 

« 
I  met  with  a  little  accident  during  the  three-quarters  of  an  hour 

which  they  allow  for  the  entertainment  of  us  men  of  fashion  on  the 
stage,  before  the  curtain  draws  up  for  the  bally,  while  the  ladies  in 
the  boxes  are  gaping,  and  the  people  in  the  pit  are  drumming  with 
their  feet  and  canes  in  the  rudest  manner  possible,  as  though  they 
couldn't  wait. 

Just  at  the  moment  before  the  little  bell  rings  and  the  curtain 
flies  up,  and  we  scvtffle  off"  to  the  sides  (for  we  always  stay  till  the 
very  last  moment),  I  was  in  the  middle  of  the  stage,  making  myself 
very  affable  to  tlie  fair  figgerantys  which  w\as  spinning  and  twirling 
about  me,  and  asking  them  if  they  wasn't  cold,  and  such  like  polite- 
ness, in  the  most  condescending  way  possible,  when  a  bolt  was 
suddenly  withdrawn,  and  down  I  popped,  through  a  trap  in  the 
stage,  into  the  place  below.  Luckily,  I  was  stopped  by  a  piece  of 
machinery,  consisting  of  a  heap  of  green  blankets,  and  a  yoimg  lady 
coming  up  as  Venus  rising  from  the  sea.  If  I  had  not  follen  so  soft, 
I  don't  know  what  might  Jiave  been  the  consequence  of  the  collusion. 
I  never  told  Mrs.  Coxe,  for  she  can't  bear  to  hear  of  my  paying  the 
least  attention  to  the  fair  sex. 


JUNE— STRIKING   A    BALANCE 

NEXT  door  to  us,  in  Portland  Place,  lived  the  Right  Honour- 
able the  Earl  of  Kilblazes,  of  Kilniacrasy  Castle,  county  Kil- 
dare,  and  his  mother,  the  Dowager  Countess.  Lady  Kilblazes 
had  a  daughter,  Lady  Juliana  Matilda  Mac  Turk,  of  the  exact  age 
of  our  dear  Jemimarann ;  and  a  son,  the  Honouralilc  Arthur  AVcl- 
lington  Anglesey  Blucher  Bulow  Mac  Turk,  only  ten  months  older 
than  our  boy  Tug. 

My  darling  Jemmy  is  a  woman  of  spirit,  and,  as  become 
her  station,  made  every  possible  attempt  to  become  acquainted 
with  the  Dowager  Countess  of  Kilblazes,  which  her  Ladyship 
(because,  forsooth,  she  was  the  daughter  of  the  Minister,  and 
Prince  of  Wales's  great  friend,  the  Earl  of  Portansherry)  thought 
tit  to  reject.  I  don't  wonder  at  my  Jemmy  growing  so  angry 
with  her,  and  determining,  in  every  way,  to  put  her  Ladyship 
down.  The  Kilblazes  estate  is  not  so  large  as  the  Tuggeridge 
property  by  two  thousand  a  year  at  least ;  and  so  my  wife,  Avhen 
our  neighbours  kept  only  two  footmen,  was  quite  authorised  in 
having  three ;  and  she  made  it  a  point,  as  soon  as  ever  the 
Kilblazes'  carriage-and-pair  came  round,  to  liave  out  her  own 
carriage-and-four. 

Well,  our  box  was  next  to  theirs  at  the  Opera ;  only  twice  as 
big.  Whatever  masters  went  to  Lady  Juliana,  came  to  my  Jemimar- 
ann ;  and  what  do  you  think  Jemmy  did  %  she  got  her  celebrated 
governess,  Madame  de  Flicllac,  away  from  the  Countess,  by  offering 
a  double  salary.  It  was  quite  a  treasure,  they  said,  to  have  Madame 
Flicfiac  :  she  had  been  (to  support  her  father,  the  Count,  when  he 
emigrated)  a  French  dancer  at  the  Italian  Opera.  French  <lancing, 
and  Italian,  therefore,  we  had  at  once,  and  in  the  best  style :  it  is 
astonishing  how  quick  and  well  she  used  to  speak — the  French 
especially. 

Master  Ai-thur  Mac  Turk  was  at  the  famous  school  of  the 
Reverend  Clement  Coddler,  along  with  a  hundred  and  ten  other 
young  fashionables,  from  the  age  of  three  to  fifteen  ;  and  to  this 
establishment  Jemmy  sent  our  Tug,  adding  forty  guineas  to  the 
hundred  and  twenty  paid  every  year  for  the  boarders.     I  think  J 


2IO  COX'S    DIARY 

found  out  the  dear  soul's  reason ;  for,  one  day,  speaking  about  the 
school  to  a  mutual  acquaintance  of  ours  and  the  Kilblazes,  she 
whispered  to  him  that  "  she  never  would  have  thought  of  sending 
her  darling  boy  at  the  rate  which  her  next-door  neighbours  paid  ; 
their  lad,  she  was  sure,  must  be  starved  :  however,  poor  people,  they 
did  the  best  they  could  on  their  income  !  " 

Coddler's,  in  fact,  was  the  tiptop  school  near  London  :  he  had 
been  tutor  to  the  Duke  of  Buckminster,  who  had  set  him  up  in  the 
school,  and,  as  I  tell  you,  all  the  peerage  and  respectable  commoners 
came  to  it.  You  read  in  the  bill  (the  snopsis,  I  think,  Coddler 
called  it),  after  the  iiccount  of  the  charges  for  board,  masters, 
extras,  &c. — 

"  Every  young  nobleman  (or  gentleman)  is  expected  to  bring  a 
knife,  fork,  spoon,  and  goblet  of  silver  (to  prevent  breakage),  which 
will  not  be  returned ;  a  dressing-gown  and  slippers ;  toilet-box, 
pomatum,  curling-irons,  &c.  &c.  The  pupil  must  on  no  account 
be  allowed  to  have  more  than  ten  guineas  of  pocket-money,  unless 
his  parents  particularly  desire  it,  or  he  be  above  fifteen  years  of  age. 
Wine  will  be  an  extra  charge  ;  as  are  warm,  vapour,  and  douche 
baths.  Carriage  exercise  will  be  jirovided  at  the  rate  of  fifteen 
guineas  per  quarter.  It  is  earnestly  requested  that  no  young  noble- 
man (or  gentleman)  be  allowed  to  smoke.  In  a  place  devoted  to 
the  cultivation  of  polite  Uterattire,  such  an  ignoble  enjoyment 
were  profane. 

"  Clement  Coddler,  M.A., 

"  Chaplain  and  late  Tutor  to  his  Grace  the 
Duke  of  Buckminster. 

"Mount  Parnassus, 

Richmond,  Surrey." 


To  tliis  establishment  our  Tug  was  sent.  "  Recollect,  my  dear," 
said  his  mamma,  "  tliat  you  are  a  Tuggeridge  by  birth,  and  that 
I  expect  you  to  beat  all  the  boys  in  the  school ;  especially  that 
Wellington  Mac  Turk,  who,  though  he  is  a  lord's  son,  is  notliing  to 
you,  who  are  the  heir  of  Tuggeridge ville." 

Tug  was  a  smart  young  fellow  enough,  and  could  cut  and  curl 
as  well  as  any  young  chap  of  his  age  :  he  was  not  a  bad  hand  at  a 
wig  either,  and  could  shave,  too,  very  prettily ;  but  that  was  in  the 
old  time,  when  we  were  not  great  i)eople  :  when  he  came  to  be  a 
gentleman,  he  had  to  learn  Latin  and  Greek,  and  had  a  deal  of  lost 
time  to  make  up  for,  on  going  to  school. 

However,  we  had  no  fear;  for  the  Reverend  Mr.  Coddler  used 


STRIKING    A    BALANCE  211 

to  send  monthly  accoinits  of  liis  pupil's  progress,  and  if  Tug  was 
not  a  wonder  of  the  world,  I  don't  know  who  was.     It  was — 

General  behaviour       ....  excellent. 

English very  good. 

French trfes  bien. 

Latin         ......  optim^. 

And  so  on  : — he  possessed  all  the  virtues,  and  wrote  to  us  every 
month  for  money.  My  dear  Jemmy  and  I  determined  to  go  and 
see  him,  after  he  had  been  at  school  a  quarter ;  we  went,  and  were 
shown  by  Mr.  Coddler,  one  of  the  meekest  smilingest  little  men  I 
ever  saw,  into  the  bedrooms  and  eating-rooms  (the  dromitaries  and 
refractories  he  called  them),  which  were  all  as  comfortable  as  com- 
fortable might  be.  "It  is  a  holiday  to-day,"  said  Mr.  Coddler;  and 
a  holiday  it  seemed  to  be.  In  the  dining-ro(3m  were  half-a-dozen 
young  gentlemen  playing  at  cards  ("  All  tip-top  nobility,"  observed 
Mr.  Coddler) ; — in  the  bedrooms  there  was  only  one  gent :  he  was 
lying  on  his  bed,  reading  novels  and  smoking  cigars.  "  Extra- 
ordinary genius  !  "  whisjiered  Coddler.  "  Honoura1)le  Tom  Fitz- 
Warter,  cousin  of  Loi'd  Byron's ;  smokes  all  day ;  and  has  written 
the  sweetest  poems  you  can  imagine.  Genius,  my  dear  madam,  you 
know — genius  nuist  have  its  way."  "Well,  upon  my  word,"  says 
Jemmy,  "  if  that's  genius,  I  had  rather  that  Master  Tuggeridge 
Coxe  Tuggeridge  remained  a  dull  fellow." 

"  Impossible,  my  dear  madam,"  said  Coddler.  "  Mr,  Tuggeridge 
Coxe  couldnH  be  stupid  if  he  tried." 

Just  then  up  comes  Lord  Claude  Lollypop,  third  son  of  the 
Marquis  of  Allycompane.  We  were  introduced  instantly :  "  Lord 
Claude  Lollypop,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Coxe."  The  little  lord  wagged  his 
head,  my  wife  bowed  very  low,  and  so  did  Mr.  Coddler ;  who,  as  he 
saw  my  Lord  making  for  the  playground,  begged  him  to  show  us 
the  way. — "  Come  along,"  says  my  Lord ;  and  as  he  walked  before 
us,  whistling,  we  had  leisure  to  remark  the  beautiful  holes  in  his 
jacket,  and  elsewhere. 

About  twenty  young  noblemen  (and  gentlemen)  were  gathered 
round  a  pastrycook's  shop  at  the  end  of  the  green.  "That's  th« 
grub-shop,"  said  my  Lord,  "where  we  young  gentlemen  wot  haa 
money  buys  our  wittles,  and  them  young  gentlemen  wot  has  none, 
goes  tick." 

Then  we  passed  a  poor  red-haired  usher  sitting  on  a  bench 
alone.  "That's  Mr.  Hicks,  the  Husher,  ma'am,"  says  my  Lord. 
"We  keep  him,  for  he's  very  useful  to  throw  stones  at,  and  he 
keeps  the  chaps'  coats  when  there's  a  fight,  or  a  game  at  cricket. — 


ii2  COX'S    DIARY 

Well,  Hicks,  how's  your  motlierl  what's  the  row  now?"  "T 
believe,  my  Lord,"  said  the  usher,  very  meekly,  "there  is  a 
pugilistic  encounter  somewhere  on  the  premises — the  Honourable 
Mr.  Mac " 

"Oh!  come  along,"  said  Lord  Lollypop,  "come  along:  this 
way,  ma'am  !  Go  it,  ye  cripples  !  "  And  my  Lord  pulled  my  dear 
Jemmy's  gown  in  the  kindest  and  most  familiar  way,  she  trotting 
on  after  him,  mightily  pleased  to  be  so  taken  notice  of,  and  I  after 
her.  A  little  boy  wont  running  across  tlie  green.  "Who  is  it, 
Petitoes?"  screams  my  Lord.  "  Tiu-k  and  the  barber,"  pipes 
Petitoe»,  and  runs  to  the  pastrycook's  like  mad.     "Turk  and  the 

ba ,"  laughs  out  my  Lord,  looking  at  us.      "Hurra!  thh  way, 

ma'am ! "  And  turning  round  a  comer,  he  opened  a  door  into  a 
courtyard,  where  a  number  of  boys  were  collected,  and  a  great  noise 
of  shrill  voices  might  be  heard.  "  Go  it,  Turk  !  "  siiys  one.  "  Go  it, 
barber!"  says  another.  ^^  Punch  hith  life  out!"  roars  another, 
whose  voice  was  just  cracked,  and  liis  clothes  lialf  a  yard  too  sliort 
for  him ! 

Fancy  oiu*  horror  when,  on  the  crowd  making  way,  we  saw  Tug 
pummelling  away  at  the  Honourable  Master  ]Mac  Turk  !  ]\[y  dear 
Jemmy,  who  don't  imderstand  suih  tl)ings,  jxiuuced  upon  the  two 
at  once,  and,  vdt\\  one  liand  tearing  away  Tug,  sent  liim  spinning 
back  into  the  arms  of  his  seconds,  wliile  with  the  other,  slie  clawed 
hold  of  Master  Mac  Turk's  red  liair,  and,  as  so«in  as  she  got  her 
second  hand  free,  banged  it  about  Iiis  face  and  ears  like  a  good  one. 

"You  nasty — wicked — quaiTclsome — aristocratic"  (each  wonl 
was  a  bang) — "  aristocratic — oh  !  oh  !  oli  !  " — Here  tlie  words 
stopped  ;  for  what  with  the  agitation,  maternal  solicitude,  and  a 
dreadful  kick  oji  the  shins  wliich,  I  am  a.'ihamed  to  eay,  Master 
Mac  Turk  adniinistered,  my  dear  Jemmy  could  bear  it  no  longer, 
and  sank  fainting  away  in  my  arms. 


JULY— DOWN  AT  BEULAH 

ALTHOUGH  there  was  a  regular  cut  between  the  next-door 
Z-\  peoj)le  and  us,  yet  Tug  and  the  Honourable  Master  Mac 
•*  *■  Turk  ke])t  up  their  acquaintance  over  the  back-garden  wall, 
and  in  the  stables,  where  they  were  fighting,  making  friends,  and 
playing  tricks  from  morning  to  night,  duiing  the  holidays.  Indeed, 
it  was  from  young  ]\Iac  that  we  first  heard  of  Madame  de  Flicflac, 
of  whom  my  Jemmy  robbed  Lady  Kilblazes,  as  I  before  have  related. 
When  our  friend  the  Baron  first  saw  Madame,  a  very  tender  greeting 
passed  between  them ;  for  tliey  had,  as  it  appeared,  been  old  friends 
abroad.  "  Sapristi,"  said  the  Baron,  in  his  lingo,  "  que  fais-tu  ici, 
Am^naide  1 "  "  Et  toi,  mon  pauvi-e  Chicot,"  says  she,  "  est-ce  qu'on 
t'a  mis  h,  la  retraitel     U   parait  que   tu  n'es  plus  Gdndral  chez 

Franco "     "  Chut ! "  says  the  Baron,  putting  his  finger  to  his 

lips. 

"What  are  they  saying,  my  dear?"  says  my  wife  to  Jemimarann, 
who  had  a  i)retty  knowledge  of  the  language  by  this  time. 

"  I  don't  know  what  '  Sapristi '  means,  mamma ;  but  the  Baron 
asked  Madame  what  she  was  doing  here ;  and  Madame  said,  '  And 
you,  Chicot,  you  are  no  more  a  General  at  Franco  ? '- — Have  I  not 
translated  rightly,  Madame  1 " 

"Qui,  mon  chou,  mon  ange.  Yase,  my  angel,  my  cabbage, 
quite  right.  Figure  yourself,  I  have  known  my  dear  Chicot  dis 
twenty  years." 

"Chicot  is  my  name  of  baptism,"  says  the  Baron;  "Baron 
Chicot  de  Punter  is  my  name." 

"And  being  a  General  at  Franco,"  says  Jemmy,  "means,  I 
suppose,  being  a  French  General  ? " 

"  Yes,  I  vas,"  said  he,  "  General  Baron  de  Punter — n'est  'a  pas, 
Amendide  ?" 

"  Oh  yes  ! "  said  Madame  Flicflac,  and  laughed ;  and  I  and 
Jemmy  laughed  out  of  politeness:  and  a  pretty  laughing  matter 
it  was,  as  you  shall  hear. 

About  this  time  my  Jemmy  became  one  of  the  Lady-Patronesses 
of  that  admirable  institution,  "The  Washerwoman's-Orphans' 
Home ; "  Lady  de  Sudley  was  the  great  projector  of  it ;  and  the 


214  COX'S    DIARY 

manager  and  chaplain,  the  excellent  and  Reverend  Sidney  Slopper. 
His  salary  as  chaplain,  and  that  of  Doctor  Leitch,  the  physician 
(both  cousins  of  her  Ladyship's),  drew  away  five  hundred  pounds 
from  the  six  subscribed  to  the  charity  ;  and  Lady  de  Sudley  thought 
a  fete  at  Beulah  Si)a,  viith.  the  aid  of  some  of  the  foreign  princes 
who  were  in  town  last  year,  might  bring  a  little  more  money  into 
its  treasury.  A  tender  appeal  was  accordingly  drawn  up,  and 
published  in  all  the  papers. 


"  APPEAL. 
"  British  Washerwoman's-Orphans'  Home. 

"The  ' Washerwoman's-Orphans'  Home'  has  now  been  estab- 
lislied  seven  years :  and  the  good  which  it  has  effected  is,  it  may 
be  confidently  stated,  {ncalculahle.  Ninety-eight  orphan  cliildren 
of  Washerwomen  have  been  lodged  within  its  walls.  One  liundrcd 
and  two  British  Washerwomen  have  been  relieved  when  in  the  last 
stage  of  decay.  One  hundred  and  ninety-eight  thousand 
articles  of  male  and  female  dress  have  been  washed,  mended, 
buttoned,  ironed,  and  mangled  in  the  Establishment.  And,  by 
an  arrangement  with  the  goveniors  of  the  Foundling,  it  is  hoped 
that  the  Baby-linen  of  that  Hospital  will  be  confided  to  the 
British  Washerwoman's  Home  ! 

"With  such  prospects  before  it,  is  it  not  sad,  is  it  not  lament- 
able to  think,  tliat  the  Patronesses  of  the  Society  have  been  com- 
pelled to  reject  the  api)lications  of  no  less  than  three  thousand 
eight  hundred  and  one  British  Washerwomen,  from  lack  of 
means  for  their  support?  Ladies  of  England!  Mothers  of  England! 
to  you  Ave  ai)peal.  Is  there  one  of  you  tnat  Avill  not  respond  to  the 
cry  in  behalf  of  these  deserAnng  members  of  our  sex  1 

"  It  has  been  determined  by  the  Ladies-Patronesses  to  give  a 
fete  at  Beulah  Spa,  on  Thursday,  July  25 ;  which  will  be  graced 
with  the  first  foreign  and  native  talent  ;  by  the  first  foreign  and 
native  rank;  and  where  they  beg  for  the  attendance  of  every 
Washerwoman's  friend." 

Her  Highness  the  Princess  of  Schloppenzollemschwigmaringen, 
the  Duke  of  Sacks-Tubbingen,  His  Excellency  Baron  Strumpff",  His 
Excellency  Lootf-Allee-Koolee-Bismillah-Moliamed-Rusheed-Allah,  the 
Persian  Ambassador,  Prince  Futtee-Jaw,  Envoy  from  the  King  of 
Oude,  His  Excellency  Don  Alonzo  di  Cachacliero-y-Fandango-y- 
Castafiete,  the  Spanish  Ambassador,  Count  Ravioli,  from  Milan,  the 
Envoy  of  the  Republic  of  Topinambo,  and  a  host  of  other  fashion- 


DOWN    AT    BEULAH  215 

ables  promisetl  to  honour  the  festival :  and  their  names  made  a 
famous  show  in  the  bills.  Besides  these  we  had  the  celebrated  band 
of  Moscow-musiks,  the  seventy-seven  Transylvanian  trumpeters,  and 
the  famous  Bohemian  Minnesingers  ;  with  all  the  leading  artists  of 
London,  Paris,  the  Continent,  and  the  rest  of  Europe. 

I  leave  you  to  fancy  what  a  splendid  triumph  for  the  British 
Washerwoman's  Home  was  to  come  otf  on  that  day.  A  beautiful 
tent  was  erected,  in  which  the  Ladies-Patronesses  were  to  meet :  it 
was  hung  round  with  specimens  of  the  skill  of  the  Washerwomen's 
orphans ;  ninety-six  of  whom  were  to  be  feasted  in  the  gardens,  and 
waited  on  by  the  Ladies-Pati'onesses. 

Well,  Jemmy  and  my  daughter,  Madame  de  Flictlac,  myself, 
the  Count,  Baron  Punter,  Tug,  and  Tagrag,  all  went  down  in  the 
chariot  and  barouche-and-four,  quite  eclipsing  imor  Lady  Kilblazes 
and  her  carriage-and-two. 

There  was  a  fine  cold  collation,  to  which  the  friends  of  the 
Ladies -Patronesses  were  admitted;  after  which  my  ladies  and 
their  beaux  Avent  strolling  through  the  walks  ;  Tagrag  and  the  Count 
having  each  an  arm  of  Jemmy  ;  the  Baron  giving  an  arm  apiece  to 
Madame  and  Jemimarann.  Whilst  they  were  walking,  whom  should 
they  light  upon  but  i)oor  Orlando  Crump,  my  successor  in  the  i)er- 
fumery  and  haircutting. 

"  Orlando  ! "  says  Jemimarann,  blushing  as  red  as  a  label,  and 
holding  out  her  hand. 

"  Jeraimar  !  "  says  he,  holding  out  his,  and  turning  as  white  as 
pomatum. 

"  Sir  !  "  says  Jemmy,  as  stately  as  a  duchess. 

"  What !  madam,"  says  poor  Crump,  "  don't  y<iu  remember  your 
shopboy  1 " 

"Dearest  mamma,  don't  you  recollect  Orlando?"  whimpers 
Jemimarann,  whose  hand  he  had  got  hold  of. 

"  Miss  Tuggeridge  Coxe,"  says  Jemmy,  "  Pm  surprised  at  you. 
Remember,  sir,  that  our  i)osition  is  altered,  and  oblige  me  by  no 
more  tamiliarity." 

"  Insolent  fellow  !  "  says  the  Baron,  "  vat  is  dis  canaille  1 " 

"Canal  yourself,  Mounseer,"  says  Orlando,  now  grown  quite 
furious  :  he  broke  away,  ciuite  indignant,  and  was  soon  lost  in  the 
crowd.  Jemimarann,  as  soon  as  he  was  gone,  began  to  look  very 
pale  and  ill ;  and  her  mamma,  therefore,  took  her  to  a  tent,  where 
she  left  her  along  with  Madame  Flicfiac  and  the  Baron ;  going  off 
herself  with  the  other  gentlemen,  in  order  to  join  us. 

It  appears  they  had  not  been  seated  very  long,  when  IMadame 
Flicflac  suddenly  sprang  up,  with  an  exclamation  of  joy,  and  rushed 
forward  to  a  friend  whom  she  saw  pass. 


2i6  COX'S    DIARY 

The  Baron  was  left  alone  with  Jemimarann  ,  and  whether  it  was 
the  champagne,  or  that  my  dear  girl  looked  more  than  commonly 
pretty,  I  don't  know;  but  Madame  Flicfiac  had  not  been  gone  a 
minute,  when  the  Baron  dropped  on  his  knees,  and  made  her  a 
regular  declaration. 

Poor  Orlando  Crump  had  found  me  out  by  this  time,  and  was 
standing  by  my  side,  listening,  as  melancholy  as  possible,  to  the 
famous  Boliemian  Minnesingers,  who  were  singing  the  celebrated 
words  of  the  poet  Gothy  : — 

"  Ich  bin  ya  hupp  lily  lee,  du  bist  ya  hupp  lily  lee, 
Wir  sind  doch  hupp  lily  lee,  hupp  la  lily  lee. 

Chorus. — Yodle-odle-odle-odle-odle-odle  hupp  ! 
yodlc-odle-aw-o-o-o  !  " 

They  were  standing  with  their  hands  in  thoir  waistcoats,  as  usual, 
and  had  just  come  to  the  "  o-o-o,''  at  the  end  of  the  chorus  of  the 
forty-seventh  stanza,  when  Orlando  started  :  "  That's  a  scream  ! " 
says  he.  "  Indeed  it  is,"  says  I ;  "  and,  but  for  the  fashion  of  the 
thing,  a  very  ugly  scream  too  :  "  when  I  heard  another  shrill ''  Oh  ! " 
as  I  tiiought;  and  Orlando  bolted  off,  crying,  "By  heavens,  it's  her 
voice  ! "  "  Whose  voice  1 "  says  I.  "  Come  and  see  the  row,"  says 
Tag.  And  off  we  went,  with  a  (.-onsiderable  number  of  people,  who 
saw  this  strange  move  on  his  part. 

We  came  to  the  tent,  and  there  we  found  my  poor  Jemimarann 
fainting ;  her  mamma  holding  a  smelling-bottle  ;  tlie  Baron,  on  the 
ground,  holding  a  handkerchief  to  his  ])leeding  nose  ;  and  Orlando 
squaring  at  liim,  and  calling  on  him  to  fight  if  he  dared. 

My  Jennny  looked  at  Crump  very  fierce.  "  Take  that  feller 
away,"  says  she  ;  "he  has  insulted  a  French  nobleman,  and  deserves 
transportation,  at  the  least." 

Poor  Orlando  was  carried  off.  "  I've  no  patience  with  the  little 
minx,"  says  Jemmy,  giving  Jemimarann  a  pinch.  "  She  might  be 
a  Baron's  lady  ;  and  she  screams  out  because  his  Excellency  did  but 
squeeze  her  hand." 

"  Oh,  mamma  !  mamma  ! "  sobs  poor  Jemimarann,  "  but  he  was 

t-t-tipsy." 

"  f-t-tipsy !  and  the  more  shame  for  you,  you  hussy,  to  be 
offended  with  a  nobleman  who  does  not  know  what  he  is  doing." 


AUGUST— A    TOURNAMENT 

I  SAY,  Tug,"  said  Mac  Turk,  one  day  soon  after  our  flare-up  at 
Beulah,  "Kilblazes  comes  of  age  in  October,  aud  then  -we'll  cut 
you  out,  as  I  told  you  :  the  old  barbercss  will  die  of  spite  when 
she  hears  what  w^e  are  going  to  do.  What  do  you  think?  we're 
going  to  have,  a  tournament !  "  "  What's  a  tournament  ? "  says  Tug, 
and  so  said  his  mamma  when  she  heard  the  news ;  and  wlien  she 
knew  what  a  tournament  was,  I  think,  really,  she  tvas  as  angry  as 
Mac  Turk  said  she  would  be,  an(l  gave  us  no  peace  for  days  together. 
"  What ! "  says  she,  "  dress  up  in  armour,  like  play-actors,  and  run 
at  each  other  with  spears "?  The  Kilblazes  must  be  mad  !  "  And 
so  I  thought,  Init  I  didn't  think  the  Tuggeridges  would  be  mad  too, 
as  they  were :  for,  when  Jemmy  heard  that  the  Kilblazes'  festival 
was  to  be,  as  yet,  a  profound  secret,  what  does  she  do,  but  send 
down  to  the  Mornmg  Post  a  flaming  account  of 

"  THE    PASSAGE    OP   ARMS    AT    TUGGEEIDGEVILLE  ! 

'•  The  days  of  chivalry  are  not  past.  The  fair  Castellane  of 
T-gg-r-dgeville,  whose  splendid  entertainments  have  so  often  been 
alluded  to  in  this  paper,  has  determined  to  give  one,  which  shall 
exceed  in  splendour  even  the  magnificence  of  the  Middle  Ages. 
We  are  not  at  liberty  to  say  more ;  but  a  tournament,  at  which 
His  Ex-l-ncy  B-r-n  de  P-nt-r  and  Thomas  T-gr-g,  Esq.,  eldest 
son  of  Sir  Th — s  T-gr-g,  are  to  be  the  knights-defendants  against  all 
comers ;  a  Queen  of  Beauty,  of  whose  loveliness  every  frequenter  of 
fashion  has  felt  the  power ;  a  banquet,  unexampled  in  the  annals  of 
Gunter ;  and  a  ball,  in  which  the  recollections  of  ancient  chivalry 
will  blend  sweetly  with  the  soft  tones  of  Weippert  and  Collinet,  are 
among  the  entertainments  which  the  Ladye  of  T-gg-ridgeville  has 
prepared  for  her  distinguished  guests." 

The  Baron  was  the  life  of  the  scheme  :  he  longed  to  be  on  horse- 
back, and  in  the  field  at  Tuggeridgeville,  where  he,  Tagrag,  and  a 
number  of  our  friends  practised  :  he  was  the  very  best  filter  present ; 
he  vaulted  over  his  horse,  and  played  such  wonderful  antics,  as 
never  were  done  except  at  Ducrow's. 


«i8  COX'S    DIARY 

And  now — oh  that  I  had  twenty  pages,  instead  of  this  short 
chapter,  to  describe  tlie  wonders  of  the  day  ! — Twenty-four  kniglits 
came  from  Asliley's  at  two  guineas  a  head.  We  were  in  hopes  to 
have  had  Miss  Woolford  in  tlie  character  of  Joan  of  Arc,  but  that 
lady  did  not  appear.  We  had  a  tent  for  tlie  cliallengers,  at  each 
side  of  which  hung  what  they  called  escoachings  (like  hatchments, 
which  they  put  up  when  people  die),  and  underneath  sat  their 
pages,  holding  their  helmets  for  the  tournament.  Tagrag  Avas  in 
brass-armour  (my  City  connections  got  him  that  f;imous  suit)  ;  his 
Excellency  in  polished  steel.  ]\Iy  wife  wore  a  coronet,  modelled 
exactly  after  that  of  Queen  Catharine,  in  "  Henry  V.  " ;  a  tight  gilt 
jacket,  which  set  off  dear  Jemmy's  figure  wonderfully,  and  a  train 
of  at  least  forty  feet.  Dear  Jcmimarann  was  in  white,  her  hair 
braided  with  pearls.  Madame  de  Flicflac  appeared  as  Queen  Eliza- 
beth ;  and  Lady  Blanche  Bluenose  as  a  Turkish  Princess.  An  alder- 
man of  London  and  his  lady ;  two  magistrates  of  the  county,  and 
the  very  pink  of  Croydon  j  several  Polish  noblemen ;  two  Italian 
Counts  (besides  our  Count) ;  one  hundred  and  ten  young  ofhcers, 
from  Addiscniiibe  College,  in  full  uniform,  commanded  by  Major- 
Gencral  Sir  ]\Iiles  MuUigatawney,  K.C.B.,  and  his  lady;  the  Misses 
Pimminy's  Finishing  Establishment,  and  fourteen  young  ladies,  all 
in  white ;  the  Reverend  Doctor  Wapshot,  and  forty-nine  young 
gentlemen,  of  the  first  families,  under  his  charge — were  some  only 
of  the  company.  I  leave  you  to  fancy  tluit,  if  my  Jemmy  did  seek 
for  fashion,  she  had  enough  of  it  on  this  occasion.  They  wanted  me 
to  have  moimtcd  again,  but  my  hunting-day  had  been  sutticient ; 
besides,  I  ain't  big  enough  for  a  real  knight :  so,  as  Mrs.  Coxe  in- 
sisted on  my  opening  the  Tournament — and  I  knew  it  was  in  vain 
to  resist — the  Baron  and  Tagrag  hatl  imtlertaken  to  arrange  so  that 
I  might  come  off  with  safety,  if  I  came  off  at  all.  Tiiey  had  pro- 
cured from  the  Strand  Tlieatre  a  fomous  stud  of  hobby-horses,  which 
they  told  me  had  been  trained  for  the  use  of  the  great  Lord  Bate- 
man.  I  did  not  know  exactly  what  tliey  were  till  they  arrived  ; 
but  as  they  had  belonged  to  a  lord,  I  thought  it  was  all  right,  and 
consented  ;  and  I  found  it  the  best  sort  of  riding,  after  all,  to  appear 
to  be  on  hoi-seback  and  walk  safely  a-foot  at  the  same  time ;  and  it 
was  impossible  to  come  down  as  long  as  I  kept  on  my  own  legs  : 
besides,  I  could  cidf  and  pull  my  steed  about  as  nuich  a.s  I  liked, 
without  fear  of  his  biting  or  kicking  in  return.  As  Lord  of  the 
Tournament,  they  ]ilaced  in  my  hands  a  lance,  ornamented  spirally, 
in  blue  and  gold  :  I  tliou^dit  of  the  pole  over  my  old  shop  door,  and 
almost  wished  myself  there  again,  as  I  capered  up  to  the  battle  in 
my  helmet  and  breast-plate,  with  all  the  tnimpets  blowing  and 
jlrums  beating  at  the  time.     Captain  Tagrag  was  my  opponent,  and 


a 

ft 

H 


O 

50 


A   TOURNAMENT  219 

preciously  we  poked  each  other,  till,  prancing  about,  I  ]mt  mj-  foot 
on  my  horse's  petticoat  behind,  and  down  I  came,  getting  a  thrust 
from  tlie  Captain,  at  the  same  time,  tliat  almost  broke  my  shoukler- 
bone.  "This  was  sufficient,"  they  said,  "for  the  laws  of  chivalry;" 
and  I  was  glad  to  get  off  so. 

After  that  the  gentlemen  riders,  of  whom  there  were  no  less  than 
seven,  in  comidete  armour,  and  the  professionals,  now  ran  at  the 
ring ;  and  the  Baron  was  far,  far  the  most  skilful. 

"  How  sweetly  the  dear  Baron  rides  ! "  said  my  wife,  who  was 
always  ogling  at  him,  smirking,  smiling,  and  waving  her  handkerchief 
to  him.  "I  say,  Sam,"  says  a  professional  to  one  of  his  friends, 
as,  after  their  course,  they  came  cantering  tip,  and  ranged  under 
Jemmy's  bower,  as  she  called  it : — "  I  say,  Sam,  I'm  blowed  if  that 
chap  in  harmer  mustn't  have  been  one  of  hus."  And  this  only  made 
Jemmy  the  more  pleased  ;  for  the  fact  is,  the  Baron  had  chosen  the 
best  way  of  winning  Jemimarann  by  courting  her  mother. 

The  Baron  w^as  declared  conqueror  at  the  ring ;  and  Jemmy 
awarded  him  the  prize,  a  wreath  of  white  roses,  wiiich  she  placed 
on  his  lance ;  he  receiving  it  gracefully,  and  bowing,  until  the 
plumes  of  his  helmet  mingled  with  the  mane  of  his  charger,  which 
backed  to  the  other  end  of  the  lists ;  then  galloping  back  to  the 
place  where  Jemimarann  was  seated,  he  begged  her  to  place  it  on 
his  helmet.  The  poor  girl  blushed  very  much,  and  did  so.  As 
all  the  people  were  applauding,  Tagrag  rushed  n\),  and,  laying  his 
hand  on  the  Baron's  shoulder,  w^hispered  something  in  his  ear, 
which  made  the  other  very  angry,  I  suppose,  for  he  shook  him  off 
violently.  "Chacun,  jwvr  sni,"  says  he,  "Monsieur  de  Taguerague," 
— which  means,  I  am  told,  "  Every  man  for  himself."  And  then  he 
rode  away,  throwing  his  lance  in  the  air,  catching  it,  and  making  his 
horse  caper  and  prance,  to  the  admiration  of  all  beh(ildei-s. 

After  this  came  the  "  Passage  of  Arms."  Tagrag  and  the  Baron 
ran  courses  against  the  other  champions ;  ay,  and  uidiorsed  two 
apiece ;  whereupon  the  other  three  refused  to  turn  out ;  and  pre- 
ciously we  laughed  at  them,  to  be  sure  ! 

"Now,  it's  our  turn,  Mr.  Chicot"  says  Tagrag,  shaking  his  fist 
at  the  Baron  :  "  look  to  yourself,  you  infernal  mountebank,  for,  by 
Jupiter,  I'll  do  my  best ! "  And  before  Jemmy  and  the  rest  of  us, 
who  were  quite  bewildered,  coidd  say  a  word,  these  two  friends  were 
charging  away,  spears  in  hand,  ready  to  kill  each  other.  In  vain 
Jemmy  screamed ;  in  vain  I  threw  down  my  truncheon  :  they  had 
broken  two  poles  before  I  coul<l  say  "  Jack  Robinson,"  and  were 
driving  at  each  other  with  the  two  new  ones.  The  Baron  had  the 
worst  of  the  fii'st  course,  for  he  had  almost  been  carried  out  of  his 
saddle.     "Hark  you,  Chicot!"  screamed  out  Tagrag,  "next  time 


220  COX'S    DIARY 

look  to  your  head  ! "  And  next  time,  sure  enough,  each  aimed  at 
the  head  of  the  other. 

Tagrag's  spear  hit  the  right  place ;  for  it  carried  off  the  Baron's 
helmet,  plume,  rose-"WTeath  and  all ;  but  his  Excellency  hit  truer 
still — his  lance  took  Tagrag  on  the  neck,  and  sent  him  to  the  ground 
like  a  stone. 

"  He's  won  !  he's  won  !  "  says  Jemmy,  wa^^ng  her  handkerchief; 
Jemimarann  fainted,  Lady  Blanche  screamed,  and  I  felt  so  sick  that 
I  thought  I  should  drop.  All  the  company  were  in  an  uproar : 
only  the  Baron  looked  calm,  and  bowed  very  gi-acefully,  and  kissed 
his  hand  to  Jemmy ;  when,  all  of  a  sudden,  a  Jewish-looking  man 
springing  over  the  barrier,  and  followed  by  three  more,  rushed 
towards  the  Baron.  "  Keep  the  gate,  Bob ! "  he  holloas  out. 
"Baron,  I  arrest  you,  at  the  suit  of  Samuel  Levison,  for — —" 

But  he  never  said  for  what ;  shouting  out,  "  Aha  !  "  and  "  Sap- 
prrrristie!"  and  I  don't  know  what,  his  Excellency  drew  his  sword, 
dug  his  spurs  into  his  horse,  and  was  over  the  poor  bailiff,  and  off 
before  another  word.  He  had  threatened  to  run  through  one  of  the 
bailiff's  followers,  Mr.  Stubbs,  only  that  gentleman  made  way  for 
him  ;  and  when  we  took  up  the  bailiff,  and  lirought  him  round  by 
the  aid  of  a  little  brandy-and-water,  he  told  us  all.  "  I  had  a 
WTit  againsht  him,  Mishter  Coxsh,  but  I  didn't  vant  to  shpoil 
shport ;  and,  beshidesh,  I  didn't  know  him  imtil  dey  knocked  off  his 
Bhteel  cap  !  " 


Here  was  a  pretty  business  ! 


SEPTEMBER—OVER-BOARDED   AND 
UNDER-LODGED 

WE  had  no  great  reason  to  brag  of  our  tournament  at 
Tuggeridgeville :  but,  after  all,  it  was  better  than  the 
turn-out  at  Kilblazes,  where  poor  Lord  Heydownderry 
went  about  in  a  blurk  velvet  dressing-gown,  and  the  Emperor 
Napoleon  Bony})art  ai)peared  in  a  suit  of  armour  and  silk  stockings, 
like  Mr.  Pell's  friend  in  Pickwick.  We,  having  employed  the 
gentlemen  from  Astley's  Antitheatre,  had  some  decent  sport  for 
our  money. 

We  never  heai'd  a  word  from  the  Baron,  who  had  so  distinguished 
himself  by  his  horsemanship,  and  had  knocked  down  (and  very 
justly)  Mr.  Nabb,  the  bailiff,  and  Mr.  Stubbs  liis  man,  who  came 
to  lay  hands  upon  him.  My  sweet  Jemmy  seemed  to  be  very  low 
in  spirits  after  his  departure,  and  a  sad  thing  it  is  to  see  her  in  low 
spirits  :  on  daysof  illness  she  no  more  minds  giving  Jemimarann  a 
box  on  the  ear,  or  sending  a  plate  of  muffins  across  a  table  at  poor 
me,  than  she  does  taking  her  tea. 

Jemmy,  I  say,  was  very  low  in  spirits;  but,  one  day  (I  remember 
it  was  the  day  after  Captain  Higgins  called,  and  said  he  had  seen 
the  Baron  at  Boulogne),  she  vowed  that  nothing  but  change  of  air 
would  do  her  good,  and  declared  that  she  should  die  unless  she  went 
to  the  seaside  in  France.  I  knew  what  this  meant,  and  that  I 
might  as  well  attempt  to  resist  her  as  to  resist  Her  Gracious  Majesty 
in  Parliament  assembled;  so  I  told  the  people  to  pack  up  the  things, 
and  took  four  places  on  board  the  Grand  Turk  steamer  for 
Boulogne. 

The  travelling-carriage,  which,  with  Jemmy's  thirty-seven  boxes 
and  my  carpet-bag,  was  pretty  well  loaded,  was  sent  on  board  the 
night  before ;  and  we,  after  breakfasting  in  Portland  Place  (little 
did  I  think  it  was  the — but,  poh  !  never  mind)  went  down  to  tlie 
Custom  House  in  the  other  carriage,  followed  by  a  hackney-coach 
and  a  cab,  with  the  servants,  and  fourteen  bandboxes  and  trunks 
more,  which  were  to  be  wanted  by  my  dear  girl  in  the  journey. 

The   road   down    Cheapside   and    Thames   Street    need  not   be 
described ;  we  saw  the  Monument,  a  memento  of  the  wicked  Popish 
18 


222  COX'S    DIARY 

massacre  of  St.  Bartholomew ; — why  erected  here  I  can't  thiuk, 
as  St.  Bartholomew  is  in  Smithfield ;  —  we  had  a  glimpse  of 
Billingsgate,  and  of  the  Mansion  House,  wliere  we  saw  the  two- 
and-tweuty-shilling-coal  smoke  coming  out  of  the  chimneys,  and 
were  landed  at  the  Custom  House  in  safety.  I  felt  melancholy,  for 
we  were  going  among  a  people  of  swindlers,  as  all  Frenchmen  are 
thought  to  be.;  and,  besides  not  being  able  to  speak  the  language, 
leaving  our  own  dear  country  and  honest  countrymen. 

Fourteen  porters  came  out,  and  each  took  a  package  with  the 
greatest  civility ;  calling  Jemmy  her  Ladyship,  and  me  your  honour; 
ay,  and  your-honouring  and  my-Ladyshipping  even  my  man  and  the 
maid  in  the  cab.  I  somehow  felt  all  over  quite  melancholy  at  going 
away.  "  Here,  my  fine  fellow,"  says  I  to  the  coachman,  who  was 
standing  very  respectful,  holding  his  hat  in  one  hand  and  Jemmy's 
jewel-case  in  the  other — "  Here,  my  fine  chap,"  says  I,  "  here's  six 
shillings  for  you ; "  for  I  did  not  care  for  the  money. 

"  Six  what  1 "  says  he. 

"  Six  shillings,  fellow,"  shrieks  Jemmy,  "  and  twice  as  much  as 
your  fare." 

"  Feller,  marm  !  "  says  this  insolent  coachman.  "  Feller  your- 
self, marm :  do  you  think  I'm  ar-going  to  kill  my  horses,  and  break 
my  precious  back,  and  bust  my  carriage,  and  carry  you,  and  your 
kids,  and  your  traps,  for  six  hog?"  And  with  this  the  monster 
dropped  his  hat,  Avitli  my  money  in  it,  and  doubling  his  fist,  put  it 
so  very  near  my  nose  that  I  really  thuuglit  he  would  have  made  it 
bleed.  "  My  fare's  heighteen  shillings,"  says  he,  "  hain't  it  1 — hask 
hany  of  tliese  gentlemen." 

"Wliy,  it  ain't  more  than  seventeen-and-six,"  says  one  of  the 
fourteen  portere  ;  "but  if  the  gen'l'man  is  a  gen'l'man,  he  can't  give 
no  less  than  a  suftering  anyhow." 

I  wanted  to  resist,  and  Jemmy  screamed  like  a  Turk  ;  but, 
"  Holloa  !  "  says  one.  "  What's  the  row  1 "  says  another.  "  Come, 
dub  vip  !  "  roars  a  third.  And  I  don't  mind  telling  you,  in  confidence, 
that  I  was  .so  frightened  that  I  took  out  the  sovereign  and  gave  it. 
]\Iy  man  and  Jemmy's  maid  had  disappeared  by  this  time :  they 
always  do  when  there's  a  robbery  or  a  row  going  on. 

I  was  going  after  them.  "  Stop,  Mr.  Ferguson,"  pipes  a  young 
gentleman  of  about  thirteen,  with  a  red  livery  waistcoat  that  reached 
to  his  ankles,  and  every  variety  of  button,  pin,  string,  to  keep  it 
together.  "  Stop,  Mr.  Heff","  says  he,  taking  a  small  pipe  out  of  his 
mouth,  "and  don't  forgit  the  cabman." 

"  Wliat's  your  fare,  my  lad  ? "  says  I. 

"  Why,  let's  see — yes — ho  ! — my  fare's  seven-and-thirty  and 
eightpeuce  eggs — acly." 


S3 

I 


OYER-BOARDED  AND  UNDER-LODGED   223 

The  fourteen  gentlemen  liolding  the  luggage  liere  burst  out  and 
laughed  very  rudely  indeed;  and  the  only  j)er.son  who  seemed  dis- 
appointed was,  I  thouglit,  the  harkncy-coachiiian.  "  Why,  you 
rascal ! "  says  Jemmy,  laying  hold  of  the  boy,  "  do  you  want  more 
than  the  coachman  ? " 

"Don't  rascal  me,  mann  ! "  shrieks  tlie  little  clia])  in  return. 
"  What's  the  coach  to  me  1  Vy,  you  may  go  in  an  omnibus  for 
sixpence  if  you  like  ;  vy  don't  you  go  and  buss  it,  marm  ?  Vy  did 
you  call  my  cab,  marm  1  Vy  am  I  to  come  forty  mile,  from  Scarlot 
Street,  Po'tl'nd  Street,  Po'tl'nd  Place,  and  not  git  my  fare,  marm  1 
Come,  give  me  a  suffering  and  a  half,  and  don't  keep  my  boss 
a-vaiting  all  day."  This  speech,  which  takes  some  time  to  write 
down,  was  made  in  about  the  fifth  i)art  of  a  second ;  and,  at  the 
end  of  it,  the  young  gentleman  hurled  down  his  ]>ii>e,  and,  advancing 
towards  Jemmy,  doubled  Iris  fist,  and  seemed  to  challenge  her  to 
fight. 

My  dearest  girl  now  turned  from  red  to  be  as  pale  as  white 
Windsor,  and  fell  into  my  arms.  What  was  I  to  dol  I  called 
"  Policeman  !  "  but  a  policeman  won't  interfere  in  Thames  Street ; 
robbery  is  licensed  there.  What  was  I  to  do  ?  Oh  !  my  heart 
beats  with  paternal  gratitude  when  I  think  of  wliat  my  Tug  did  ! 

As  soon  as  this  young  cab-chap  put  himself  into  a  fighting 
attitude,  Master  Tuggeridge  Coxe — who  had  been  standing  by 
laughing  very  rudely,  I  thought^Master  Tuggeridge  Coxe,  I  say, 
flung  his  jacket  suddenly  into  his  mamma's  face  (the  brass  buttons 
made  her  start  and  recovered  her  a  little),  and,  before  we  could  say 
a  word,  was  in  the  ring  in  which  we  stood  (formed  by  the  porters, 
nine  orangemen  and  women,  I  don't  know  how  nian>-  news])a]>er- 
boys,  hotel-cads,  and  old-clothesmen),  and,  whirling  about  two  little 
white  fists  in  the 'face  of  the  gentleman  in  the  red  waistcoat,  ^\ho 
brought  up  a  great  pair  of  black  ones  to  bear  on  the  enemy,  was 
engaged  in  an  instant. 

But  la  bless  you  !  Tug  hadn't  been  at  Richmond  School  for 
nothing;  and  milled  away— one,  two,  right  and  left — like  a  little 
hero  as  he  is,  with  all  his  dear  mother's  spirit  in  him.  First  came 
a  crack  which  sent  a  long  dusky  white  hat  -that  looked  (lamj)  and 
deep  like  a  well,  and  had  a  long  black  crape-rag  twisted  round  it- 
first  came  a  crack  which  sent  this  white  hat  sjjinning  over  the 
gentleman's  cab,  and  scattered  among  the  crowd  a  vast  number  of 
things  which  the  cabman  kept  in  it,—  such  as  a  l)all  of  string,  a 
piece  of  candle,  a  comb,  a  whip-lash,  a  Little  Warbler,  a  slice  of 
bacon,  &c.  &c.  _ 

The  cabman  seemed  sadly  ashamed  of  this  display,  but  Tug 
gave  him  no  time  :  another  blow  was  planted  on  his  cheek-bone  ; 


224  COX'S   DIARY 

and  a  third,  -which  hit  hrtn  straight  on  the  nose,  sent  this  rude 
cabman  straight  down  to  the  ground. 

"  Braj^^o,  my  Lord  !  "  shouted  all  the  people  around. 

"  I  won't  have  no  more,  thank  yer,"  said  the  little  cabman, 
gathering  himself  up.  "  Give  us  over  my  fare,  vil  yer,  and  let  me 
git  away  1 " 

"What's  yoiu-  fare  noic,  you  cowardly  little  thief?"  says  Tug. 

"  Vy,  then,  two-and-eightpence,"  says  he.  "  Go  along, — you 
know  it  is ! "  And  two-and-eightpence  he  had ;  and  everybody 
applauded  Tug,  and  hissed  the  cab-boy,  and  asked  Tug  for  some- 
tliing  to  drink.  We  heard  the  packet-bell  ringing,  and  all  ran  down 
the  stairs  to  be  in  time. 

I  now  thought  our  troubles  would  soon  be  over ;  mine  were, 
very  nearly  so,  in  one  sense  at  least :  for  after  Mrs.  Coxe  and 
Jeniiinarann,  and  Tug,  and  the  maid,  and  valet,  and  valuables  had 
been  handed  across,  it  came  to  my  turn.  I  had  often  heard  of 
people  being  taken  up  by  a  Plank,  but  seldom  of  their  being  set 
down  by  one.  Just  as  I  was  going  over,  the  vessel  rode  off  a  little, 
the  board  slipped,  and  dowTi  I  soused  into  the  water.  You  might 
have  heard  Mrs.  Coxe's  shriek  as  far  as  Gravesend ;  it  rang  in  my 
ears  as  I  went  down,  all  grieved  at  the  thought  of  lea\ing  her  a 
disconsolate  widder.  Well,  up  I  came  again,  and  caught  the  brim 
of  my  beaver-hat — though  I  have  heard  that  drowning  men  catch  at 
straws  : — I  floated,  and  hoped  to  escape  by  hook  or  by  crook ;  and, 
luckily,  just  then,  I  felt  myself  suddenly  jerked  by  the  waist-band 
of  my  whites,  and  found  myself  hauled  up  in  the  air  at  the  end  of  a 
boat-hook,  to  the  sound  of  "  Ycho  !  yeho  !  yehoi !  yehoi !  "  and  so  I 
was  dragged  aboard.  I  was  put  to  bed,  and  had  swallowed  so 
much  water  that  it  took  a  very  considerable  rpiautity  of  lirandy  to 
bring  it  to  a  proper  mixture  in  my  inside.  In  fact,  for  some  hours 
I  was  in  a  very  deplorable  state. 


OCTOBER— NOTICE    TO   QUIT 

WELL,  we  arrived  at  Boulogne ;  and  Jemmy,  after  making 
inquiries,  right  and  left,  about  the  Baron,  found  that  no 
such  jjerson  was  known  there :  and  being  bent,  I  suppose, 
at  all  events,  on  marrying  her  daughter  to  a  lord,  she  determined  to 
set  off  for  Paris,  where,  as  he  had  often  said,  he  possessed  a  magnifi- 
cent  hotel  he  called  it ; — and  I  rememlier  Jemmy  being  mightily 

indignant  at  the  idea;  but  hotel,  we  found  afterwards,  means  only 
a  house  in  French,  and  this  reconciled  her.  Need  I  describe  the 
road  from  Boulogne  to  Paris  ?  or  need  I  describe  that  Capitol  itself? 
Suffice  it  to  say,  that  we  made  our  appearance  there,  at  "  Murisse's 
Hotel,"  as  became  the  family  of  Coxe  Tuggeridge ;  and  saw  every- 
thing worth  seeing  in  the  metropolis  in  a  week.  It  nearly  killed 
me,  to  be  sure ;  but,  when  you're  on  a  pleasiu-e  party  in  a  foreign 
country,  you  must  not  mind  a  little  inconvenience  of  this  sort. 

Well,  there  is,  near  the  city  of  Paris,  a  splendid  road  and  row 
of  trees,  which — I  don't  know  why — is  called  the  Shaudeleezy,  or 
Elysian  Fields,  in  French  :  others,  I  have  heard,  call  it  the  Shande- 
leery ;  but  mine  I  know  to  be  the  correct  pronunciation.  In  the 
middle  of  this  Shandeleezy  is  an  open  space  of  ground  and  a  tent 
where,  during  the  summer,  Mr.  Franconi,  the  French  Ashley,  per- 
forms with  his  horses  and  things.  As  everybody  went  there,  and 
we  were  told  it  was  quite  the  thing,  Jemmy  agreed  that  we  should 
go  too ;  and  go  w^e  did. 

It's  just  like  Ashley's :  there's  a  man  just  like  Mr.  Piddicombe, 
who  goes  round  the  ring  in  a  huzzah-dress,  cracking  a  whip ;  there 
are  a  dozen  Miss  Woolfords,  who  appear  like  Polish  princesses, 
Dihannas,  Sultannas,  Cachuchas,  and  Heaven  knows  what !  There's 
the  fat  man,  who  comes  in  with  the  twenty- three  dresses  on,  and 
turns  out  to  be  the  living  skeleton  !  There's  the  clowns,  the  sawdust, 
the  white  horse  that  dances  a  homi^ipe,  the  candles  stuck  in  hoops, 
just  as  in  om*  own  dear  country. 

My  dear  wife,  in  her  very  finest  clothes,  with  all  the  world 
looking  at  her,  was  really  enjoying  this  spectacle  (which  doesn't 
require  any  knowledge  of  the  language,  seeing  that  the  dumb  animals 
don't  talk  it),  when  there  came  in,  presently,  "  the  great  Polish  act 


226  COX'S    DIARY 

of  the  Sarmatian  horse-tamer,  on  eight  steeds,"  which  we  were  all 
of  us  longing  to  see.  The  horse-tamer,  to  music  twenty  miles  an 
hour,  rushed  in  on  four  of  his  horses,  leading  the  other  four,  and 
skurried  round  the  ring.  You  couldn't  see  him  for  the  sawdust, 
but  everybody  was  delighted,  and  applauded  like  mad.  Presently, 
you  saw  there  were  only  three  horses  in  front :  he  had  slipped  one 
more  between  his  legs,  another  followed,  and  it  was  clear  that  the 
consequences  would  be  fatal,  if  he  admitted  any  more.  The  people 
a])plauded  more  than  ever ;  and  when,  at  last,  seven  and  eight  were 
made  to  go  in,  not  wholly,  but  sliding  dexterously  in  and  out,  with 
the  others,  so  that  you  did  not  know  which  was  which,  the  house, 
I  thought,  would  come  down  with  applause;  and  the  Sarmatian 
horse-tamer  bowed  his  great  feathers  to  the  ground.  At  last  the 
music  grew  slower,  and  he  cantered  leisurely  ntuiid  the  ring;  bend- 
ing, smirking,  seesawing,  waving  his  whip,  and  laying  his  hand  on 
his  heart,  just  as  we  have  seen  the  Ashley's  peojtle  do.  But  fancy 
our  astonishment  when,  suddenly,  this  Sariuatian  liorse-tamcr,  coming 
round  with  his  four  pair  at  a  canter,  and  l)eing  opposite  our  box, 
gave  a  start,  and  a — huji]) !  which  made  all  his  horses  stop  stock-still 
at  an  instant ! 

"Albert !  "  screamed  my  dear  Jcuuny  :  "  Albert !  Bahbahbah — 
baron  ! "  The  Sarmatian  looked  at  her  for  a  minute ;  and  turning 
head  over  heels,  three  times,  bolted  suddenly  off  his  horses,  and 
away  out  of  our  sight. 

It  Avas  His  Excellency  the  Baron  de  Punter  ! 

Jemmy  went  off  in  a  fit  as  usual,  and  we  never  saw  the  Baron 
again ;  but  we  heard,  afterwards,  tliat  Punter  M-as  an  apprentice  of 
Franconi's,  and  jiad  run  away  to  England,  thinking  to  better  himself, 
and  had  joined  Mr.  Richardson's  army ;  but  Sir,  Richardson,  and 
then  London,  did  not  agree  with  him  ;  and  we  saw  the  last  of  him 
as  he  sprang  over  the  barriers  at  the  Tuggeridgeville  tournament. 

"  Well,  Jeniimarann,"  says  Jemmy,  in  a  fury,  "  you  shall  marry 
Tagrag ;  and  if  I  can't  have  a  baroness  for  a  daughter,  at  least 
you  shall  be  a  baronet's  lady,"  Poor  Jemimarann  only  sighed  ;  she 
knew  it  was  of  no  use  to  remonstrate. 

Paris  grew  dull  to  us  after  this,  and  we  were  more  eager  than 
ever  to  go  back  to  London  :  for  what  should  we  hear,  but  that  that 
monster,  Tuggeridge,  of  the  City — old  Tug's  black  son,  forsooth  !  — 
wjis  going  to  contest  Jcnnny's  claim  to  the  property,  and  had  filed  I 
don't  know  how  many  bills  against  us  in  Chancery  !  Hearing  this, 
we  set  off  immediately,  and  we  arrived  at  Boulogne,  and  set  off  in 
that  very  same  "  Grand  Turk  "  which  had  brouglit  us  to  France. 

If  you  look  in  the  bills,  you  will  see  that  the  steamers  leave 
London  on  Saturday  morning,  and  Boulogne  on  Saturday  night ;  so 


c 
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a 

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a 


NOTICE    TO    QUIT  227 

that  there  is  often  not  an  hour  Ix'tweeu  the  time  of  arrival  and 
departure..  Bless  us !  hless  us  !  I  pity  the  poor  Captain  that,  for 
twenty-four  hours  at  a  time,  is  on  a  i)addle-box,  roaring  out,  "  Ease 
her !  Stop  her  !  "  and  the  poor  servants,  who  are  laying  out  break- 
fast, lunch,  dinner,  tea,  supper ;  — breakfast,  lunch,  dinner,  tea, 
supper,  again  ; — for  layers  upon  layers  of  travellers,  as  it  were  ;  and, 
most  of  all,  I  pity  that  unhappy  steward,  with  those  unfortunate 
tin  basins  that  he  nuist  always  keep  an  eye  over.  Little  did  we 
know  what  a  storm  was  brewing  in  our  absence  ;  and  little  were 
we  prepared  for  the  awful  awful  fate  tliat  hung  over  our  Tuggeridge- 
ville  property. 

Biggs,  of  the  great  house  of  Higgs,  Biggs,  &  Blatherwick,  was  our 
man  of  business :  when  I  arrived  in  London  I  heard  that  he  had 
just  set  off  to  Paris  after  me.  So  we  started  down  to  Tuggeridge- 
ville  instead  of  going  to  Portland  Place.  As  we  came  through  the 
lodge-gates,  we  found  a  crowd  assembled  within  them  ;  and  there 
was  that  horrid  Tuggeridge  on  horseback,  with  a  shabby-looking 
man,  called  Mr.  Scajigoat,  and  his  man  of  business,  and  many 
more.  "  Mr.  Scajigoat,"  says  Tuggeridge,  gi-inning,  and  handing 
him  over  a  sealed  jjaper,  "  here's  the  lease ;  I  leave  you  in  posses- 
sion, and  wish  you  good-morning." 

"  In  possession  of  what  1 "  says  the  rightful  lady  of  Tuggeridge- 
viUe,  leaning  out  of  the  carriage-window.  She  hated  black  Tug- 
geridge, as  she  called  him,  like  poison  :  the  very  first  week  of  our 
coming  to  Portland  Place,  wlien  he  called  to  ask  restitution  of  some 
plate  which  he  said  was  his  private  property,  she  called  him  a  base- 
born  blackamoor,  and  told  him  to  quit  the  house.  Since  then  there 
had  been  law-squabbles  between  us  without  end,  and  all  sorts  of 
writings,  meetings,  and  arbitrations. 

"  Possession  of  my  estate  of  Tuggeridgeville,  madam,"  roars  he, 
"  left  me  by  my  father's  will,  which  you  have  had  notice  of  these 
three  weeks,  and  know  as  well  as  I  do." 

"  Old  Tug  left  no  will,"  shrieked  Jemmy :  "  he  didn't  die  to 
leave  his  estates  to  blackamoors — to  negi'oes — to  base-born  mulatto 
story-tellers  ;  if  he  did,  may  I  be " 

"  Oh,  hush  !  dearest  mamma,"  says  Jemimarann. 

"  Go  it  again,  mother  !  "  says  Tug,  who  is  always  sniggering. 

"What  is  this  business,  Mr.  Tuggeridge?"  cried  Tagrag  (who  was 
the  only  one  of  our  party  that  had  his  senses).    "What  is  this  willf 

"  Oh,  it's  merely  a  matter  of  form,"  said  the  lawyer,  riding  up. 
"  For  Heaven's  sake,  madam,  be  peaceable ;  let  my  friends,  Higgs, 
Biggs,  &  Blatherwick,  arrange  with  me.  I  am  surprised  that 
none  of  their  people  are  here.  All  that  you  have  to  do  is  to  eject 
us ;  and  the  rest  will  follow,  of  course." 


228  COX'S    DIARY 

"Who  has  taken  possession  of  tliis  here  property?"  roars 
Jemmy  again. 

"My  friend  Mr.  Scapgoat,"  said  tlie  lawyer. — Mr.  Scapgoat 
grinned. 

"Mr.  Scapgoat,"  said  my  wife,  shaking  her  fist  at  liim  (for  she 
is  a  woman  of  no  small  spirit),  "  if  you  dun't  leave  this  gi-ound,  I'll 
have  you  pushed  out  with  i)itchforks,  I  will — you  and  your  beggarly 
blackamoor  yonder."  And,  suiting  the  action  to  the  word,  she 
clapped  a  stable  fork  into  the  hands  of  one  of  the  gfirdeners,  and 
called  auotlier,  armed  with  a  rake,  to  his  hel|»,  while  young  Tug 
set  the  dog  at  their  heels,  and  I  hurrahed  for  joy  to  see  such 
villainy  so  proi»erly  treated. 

"  That's  sutticient,  ain't  it  1 "  said  jNIr.  Scapgoat,  with  the  calmest 
air  in  the  world.  "Oh,  completely,"  said  the  lawyer.  "Mr.  Tug- 
geridge,  we've  ten  miles  to  dinner.  Madam,  yoiu"  very  humble 
servant."     And  the  whole  posse  of  them  rode  away. 


NOVEMBER— LAW  LIFE   ASSURANCE 

WE  knew  not  what  this  meant,  until  we  received  a  strange 
document  from  Higgs,  in  London,— which  began,  "JMiddle- 
sex  to  wit.  Samuel  Cox,  late  of  Portland  Place,  in  the 
City  of  Westminster,  in  the  said  county,  was  attached  to  answer 
Samuel  Scapgoat,  of  a  plea,  wherefore,  with  force  and  arms,  he 
entered  into  one  messuage,  with  tlie  appurtenances,  which  John 
Tuggeridge,  Esquire,  demised  to  the  said  Samuel  Scapgoat,  for  a 
term  whicli  is  not  yet  expired,  and  ejected  him."  And  it  went  on 
to  say  that  "  we,  with  force  of  arms,  viz.  with  swords,  knives,  and 
staves,  had  ejected  him."  Was  there  ever  such  a  monstrous  false- 
hood ?  when  we  did  but  stand  in  defence  of  our  own ;  and  isn't  it  a 
sin  that  we  should  have  been  turned  out  of  our  rightful  possessions 
upon  such  a  rascally  i)lea? 

Higgs,  Biggs,  &  Ijlatherwick  had  evidently  been  bribed ;  for — 
would  you  believe  it  ? — they  told  us  to  give  up  possession  at  once, 
as  a  will  was  found,  and  we  could  not  defend  the  action.  My 
Jemmy  refused  their  jjrojjosal  witli  scorn,  and  laughed  at  the  notion 
of  the  will :  she  pronounced  it  to  be  a  forgery,  a  vile  blackamoor 
forgery  ;  and  believes,  to  this  day,  that  the  story  of  its  having  been 
made  thirty  years  ago,  in  Calcutta,  and  left  there  with  old  Tug's 
pa])ers,  and  found  there,  and  brought  to  England,  after  a  search 
made,  by  order  of  Tuggeridge  junior,  is  a  scandalous  falsehood. 

Well,  the  cause  was  tx'wA.  Why  need  I  say  anything  concerning 
it  1     What  shall  I  say  of  the  Lord  Chief  Justice,  but  that  he  ought 

to  be  ashamed   of  the  wig  he  sits  in?     What  of  Mr.  and 

Mr. ,  who  exerted  their  eloquence  against  justice  and  the  poor  ? 

On  our  side,  too,  was  no  less  a  man  than  Mr.  Serjeant  Binks,  who, 
ashamed  I  am,  for  the  honour  of  the  British  bar,  to  say  it,  seemed 
to  have  been  bribed  too :  for  he  actually  threw  up  his  case  !  Had 
he  behaved  like  Mr.  Mulligan,  his  junior — and  to  wluim,  in  this 
humble  way,  I  offer  my  thanks — all  might  have  been  well.  I  never 
knew  such  an  effect  jiroduced,  as  when  Mr.  Mulligan,  appearing  for 
the  first  time  in  that  court,  said,  "  Standing  here,  upon  the  pidestal 
of  scored  Thamis ;  seeing  around  me  the  arnymints  of  a  profission  I 
rispict:  having  before  me  a  vinnerable  judge,  and  an  inlightened 

T 


£^o  COX'S    DIARY 

jiuy — the  oounthry's  glory,  the  netion's  clieap  defender,  the  poor 
man's  priceless  palladium :  how  must  I  tlirimble,  my  Lard,  how 
must  the  blush  bejew  my  cheek — "  (somebody  cried  out  "  0  cheeks  !  " 
In  the  court  there  was  a  dreadful  roar  of  laughing ;  and  when  order 
was  establislied,  Mr.  Mulligan  continued :) — "  INly  Lard,  I  heed 
them  not ;  I  come  from  a  counthry  accustomed  to  opprission,  and 
as  that  counthry — yes,  my  Lard,  that  Ireland — (do  not  laugh,  I 
am  jiroud  of  it) — is  ever,  in  spite  of  her  tyrants,  green,  and  lovely, 
and  beautiful :  my  client's  cause,  likewise,  will  rise  shuperior  to  the 
malignant  imbecility — I  repeat,  the  malignant  imbecility — of 
those  who  woidd  thrample  it  down ;  and  in  whose  teeth,  in  my 
client's  name,  in  my  counthry's — ay,  and  viy  men — I,  with  folded 
arrums,  hurl  a  scarnful  aiul  eternal  defiance ! " 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  Mr.  Milligan  " — ("  Mulligan,  me  Laed," 
cried  my  defender) — "  Well,  Mulligan,  then,  be  calm,  and  keep  to 
your  brief." 

Mr.  Mulligan  did  :  and  for  tliree  hours  and  a  quarter,  in  a 
speech  crammed  with  Latin  quotations,  and  unsurpassed  for  eloquence, 
he  explained  the  situation  of  mo  and  my  family  ;  the  romantic 
manner  in  wliich  Tuggeridge  the  elder  gained  his  fortime,  and  by 
wliich  it  afterwards  came  to  my  wife ;  the  state  of  Ireland ;  the 
original  and  \irtuous  poverty  of  the  Coxes— from  which  he  glanced 
passionately,  for  a  few  miinites  (until  the  jmlge  stoi»|iod  liini),  to 
the  ])ovcrty  of  his  own  country  ;  my  excclU'nce  as  u  husband,  fatlier, 
landlord ;  my  wife's,  as  a  wife,  mother,  landlady.  All  was  in  vain 
— the  trial  went  against  us.  I  was  soon  taken  in  execution  for  the 
damages;  five  hundred  ]>ounils  of  law  expenses  of  my  own,  and 
as  much  more  of  Tuggeridge's.  He  would  not  pay  a  farthing,  he 
said,  to  get  me  out  of  a  much  worse  place  than  the  Fleet.  I  need 
not  tell  you  that  along  with  the  laml  went  the  house  in  town,  and 
the  money  in  tlu'  funds.  Tuggeridge,  he  who  had  thousands  before, 
luwl  it  all.  And  when  I  was  in  i)rison,  who  do  you  think  would 
come  and  see  mel  None  of  the  Barons,  nor  Counts,  nor  Foreign 
Ambassadors,  nor  Excellencies,  who  used  to  fill  our  house,  and  cat 
and  drink  at  our  ex])ense, — not  even  the  ungrateful  Tagrag ! 

I  could  not  hel])  now  saying  to  my  dear  wife,  "  See,  my  love,  we 
have  been  gentlefolks  for  exactly  a  year,  and  a  pretty  life  we  have 
had  of  it.  In  the  first  place,  my  darhng,  we  gave  grand  dinners, 
and  everybody  laughed  at  us." 

"  Yes,  and  recollect  how  ill  they  made  you,"  cries  my  daughter. 

"We  asked  great  comitany,  and  they  insulted  us." 

"  And  spoilt  mamma's  temper,"  said  Jemimarann. 

*'  Hush  !  miss,"  said  her  mother ;  "  we  don't  want  your  advice." 

"  Then  you  must  make  a  country  gentleman  of  me." 


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LAW    LIFE    ASSURANCE  231 

"  And  send  pa  into  dunghills,"  roared  Tug. 

"  Then  you  must  go  to  operas,  and  pick  up  foreign  Barons  and 
Counts." 

"  Oh,  thank  Heaven,  dearest  papa,  that  we  are  rid  of  them," 
cries  my  little  Jemimarann,  looking  almost  happy,  and  kissing  her 
old  pappy. 

"  And  you  must  make  a  fine  gentleman  of  Tug  there,  and  send 
him  to  a  fine  school." 

"And  I  give  you  my  word,"  says  Tug,  "I'm  as  ignorant  a  chap 
as  ever  lived," 

"You're  an  insolent  saucebox,"  says  Jemmy;  "you've  learned 
that  at  your  fine  school." 

"I've  learned  something  else,  too,  ma'am;  ask  tlic  boys  if  I 
haven't,"  grumbles  Tug. 

"  You  hawk  your  daughter  about,  and  just  escape  marrying  her 
to  a  swindler." 

"  And  drive  off  poor  Orlando,"  whimpered  my  girl. 

"  Silence  !  miss,"  says  Jemmy  fiercely. 

"You  insult  the  man  whose  father's  property  you  inherited,  and 
bring  me  into  this  prison,  without  hope  of  leaving  it :  for  he  never 
can  help  us  after  all  your  bad  language."  I  said  all  this  very  smartly  ; 
for  the  fact  is,  my  blood  was  up  at  the  time,  and  I  determined  to 
rate  my  dear  girl  soundly, 

"  Oh  !  Sammy,"  said  she,  sobbing  (for  the  poor  thing's  spirit  was 
quite  broken),  "  it's  all  true ;  I've  been  very  very  foolish  and  vain, 
and  I've  punished  my  dear  husband  antl  children  by  my  follies,  and 
I  do  so  so  repent  them  ! "  Here  Jenaimarann  at  once  burst  out 
crying,  and  flung  herself  into  her  mamma's  arms,  and  the  pair  roared 
and  sobbed  for  ten  minutes  together.  Even  Tug  looked  queer :  and 
as  for  me,  it's  a  most  extraordinary  thing,  but  I'm  blest  if  seeing 
them  so  miserable  didn't  make  me  quite  happy. — I  don't  think, 
for  the  whole  twelve  months  of  our  good  fortune,  I  had  ever  felt  so 
gay  as  in  that  dismal  room  in  the  Fleet,  Mdiere  I  was  locked  up. 

Poor  Orlando  Crump  came  to  see  us  every  day ;  and  we,  who 
had  never  taken  the  slightest  notice  of  him  in  Portland  Place,  and 
treated  him  so  cruelly  that  day  at  Beulah  Spa,  were  only  too  glad 
of  his  company  now.  He  used  to  bring  books  for  my  girl,  and  a 
bottle  of  sherry  for  me  ;  and  he  used  to  take  home  Jemmy's  fronts  and 
dress  them  for  her ;  and  when  locking-up  time  came,  he  used  to  see 
the  ladies  home  to  their  little  three-pair  bedroom  in  Holborn,  whore 
they  slept  now.  Tug  and  all,  "Can  the  bird  forget  its  nestT' 
Orlando  used  to  say  (he  was  a  romantic  young  fellow,  that's  the 
truth,  and  blew  the  flute  and  read  Lord  Byron  incessantly,  since  he 
was  separated  from  Jemimarann).  "  Can  the  bird,  let  loose  in  Eastern 
19 


232  COX'S   DIARY 

climes,  forget  its  home  1  Can  the  rose  cease  to  remember  its  beloved 
bulbul  1 — Ah,  no  !  Mr.  Cox,  you  made  me  what  I  am,  and  what  I 
hope  to  die — a  hairdresser,  I  never  see  a  curling-irons  before  I 
entered  your  shop,  or  knew  Naples  fi-om  brown  Windsor.  Did  you 
not  make  over  your  house,  your  furniture,  your  emporium  of  per- 
fumery, and  nine-and-twenty  shaving  customers,  to  me  ?  Are  these 
trifles  ?  Is  Jemimarann  a  trifle  1  if  she  would  allow  me  to  c<all  her 
so.  Oh,  Jemimarann,  your  pa  found  me  in  the  Avorkhouse,  and  made 
me  what  I  am.  Conduct  me  to  my  grave,  and  I  never  never  shall 
he  different !  "  Wlien  he  had  said  this,  Orlando  was  so  much  aftected, 
that  he  rushed  suddenly  on  his  hat  and  quitted  the  room. 

Then  Jemimarann  began  to  cry  too.  "  Oh,  pa  !  "  said  she, 
"isn't  he — isn't  he  a  nice  young  man  ?" 

"I'm  hniKjed  if  lie  ain't,"  says  Tug.  "What  do  you  think  of 
his  giving  me  eighteenpence  yesterday,  and  a  liottle  of  lavender- 
water  for  Mimarann  ? " 

"  He  niiglit  as  well  oft'er  to  give  you  back  the  shop  at  any  rate," 
says  JfMumy. 

"  What !  to  pay  Tuggeridge's  damages  ?  My  dear,  I'd  sooner 
die  than  give  Tuggcridge  the  chance." 


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DECEMBER— FAMILY  BUSTLE 

TUGGERIDGE  vowed  that  I  sliould  finish  my  days  there, 
when  lie  \)\\t  me  in  prison.  It  appears  that  we  both  had 
reason  to  be  ashamed  of  ourselves ;  and  were,  thank  God  ! 
I  learned  to  be  sorry  for  my  bad  feelings  towards  him,  and  he 
axitually  wrote  to  me  to  say — 

"  Sir, — I  think  you  have  suffered  enough  for  faults  which,  I 
believe,  do  not  lie  with  you,  so  much  as  your  wife;  and  I  have 
withdrawn  my  claims  which  I  had  against  you  while  you  were  in 
wrongftd  possession  of  my  father's  estates.  You  must  remember 
that  when,  on  examination  of  my  fixther's  papers,  no  will  was  found, 
I  yielded  up  his  property,  with  perfect  willingness,  to  those  who  I 
fimcied  were  his  legitimate  heirs.  For  this  I  received  all  sorts  of 
insults  from  your  wife  and  yourself  (who  acquiesced  in  them)  ;  and 
when  the  discovery  of  a  will,  in  India,  proved  my  just  claims,  you 
must  remember  how  they  were  met,  and  the  vexatious  proceedings 
with  which  you  sought  to  oppose  them. 

"  I  have  discharged  your  lawyer's  bill ;  and,  as  I  believe  you 
are  more  fitted  for  the  trade  you  formerly  exercised  than  for  any 
other,  I  will  give  five  lunidred  pounds  for  the  purchase  of  a  stock 
and  shop,  wdien  you  shall  find  one  to  suit  you. 

"  I  enclose  a  draft  for  twenty  pounds,  to  meet  your  present 
expenses.  You  have,  I  am  told,  a  son,  a  boy  of  some  spirit ;  if  he 
likes  to  try  his  fortune  abroad,  and  go  on  board  an  Indiaman,  I 
can  get  him  an  appointment ;  and  am,  Sir,  your  obedient  servant, 

"  John  Tuggeeidge." 

It  was  Mrs.  Breadbasket,  the  housekeeper,  who  brought  this 
letter,  and  looked  mighty  contemptuous  as  she  gave  it. 

"I  hope.  Breadbasket,  that  your  master  will  send  me  my  things  at 
any  rate,"  cries  Jemmy.  "  There's  seventeen  silk  and  satin  dresses, 
and  a  whole  heap  of  trinkets,  that  can  be  of  no  earthly  use  to  him." 

"Don't  Breadbasket  me,  mem,  if  you  please,  mem.  My  master 
says  that  them  things  is  quite  obnoxious  to  your  sphere  of  life. 
Breadbasket,  indeed  !  "     And  so  she  sailed  out. 


234  COX'S  DIARY 

Jemmy  hadn't  a  word ;  she  had  grown  mighty  quiet  since  we 
had  been  in  misfortune :  but  my  daughter  looked  as  liappy  as  a 
queen  ;  and  Tug,  when  he  heard  of  the  ship,  gave  a  jump  that  nearly 
knocked  down  poor  Orlando.  "  Ah,  I  suppose  you'll  forget  me 
now  ■? "  says  he,  with  a  sigh  ;  and  seemed  the  only  unhappy  person 
in  company. 

"  Why,  you  conceive,  Mr.  Crump,"  says  my  wife,  with  a  great 
deal  of  dignity,  "  that,  connected  as  we  are,  a  young  man  born  in  a 
work " 

"  Woman  ! "  cried  I  (for  once  in  my  life  determined  to  have  my 
own  way),  "hold  your  foolish  tongue.  Your  absurd  pride  has  been 
the  ruin  of  us  hitherto ;  and,  from  this  day,  I'll  have  no  more  of  it. 
Hark  ye,  Orlando,  if  you  will  take  Jemimaraun,  you  may  have  her ; 
and  if  you'll  take  five  hundred  pounds  for  a  half  share  of  the  shop, 
they're  yours ;  and  that^s  for  you,  Mrs.  Cox." 

And  here  we  are,  back  again.  And  I  write  this  from  the  old 
back  shop,  where  we  are  all  waiting  to  see  the  new  year  in.  Orlando 
sits  yonder,  plaiting  a  wig  for  ray  Lord  Chief  Justice,  as  happy  as 
may  be ;  and  Jemimarann  and  her  mother  have  been  as  busy  as  you 
can  imagine  all  day  long,  and  are  just  now  giving  the  finishing 
touches  to  the  bridal-dresses :  for  the  wedding  is  to  take  place  the 
day  after  to-morrow.  I've  cut  seventeen  heads  off"  (as  I  say)  this 
very  day ;  and  as  for  Jennny,  I  no  more  mind  her  than  I  do  the 
Emi)eror  of  Cliina  and  all  his  Tambarins.  Last  night  we  had  a 
merry  meeting  of  our  friends  and  neighbours,  to  celebrate  our  re- 
appearance among  them ;  and  very  merry  we  all  wei*e.  We  had 
a  cajiital  fiddler,  and  we  kept  it  up  till  a  pretty  tidy  hour  this 
moiiiing.  We  begun  with  quadrills,  but  I  never  could  do  'em  well ; 
and  after  that,  to  please  Mr.  Crump  and  his  intended,  we  tried  a 
gallopard,  Avhich  I  found  anything  but  easy ;  for  since  I  am  come 
back  to  a  life  of  ])eace  and  comfort,  it's  astonishing  how  stout  I'm 
getting.  So  we  turned  at  once  to  what  Jennny  and  me  excels  in — 
a  country  dance  ;  which  is  rather  sur])rising,  as  we  was  both  brought 
up  to  a  town  life.  As  for  young  Tug,  he  showed  oft"  in  a  sailor's 
liornpij)e  :  ^\•hieh  Mrs.  Cox  says  is  very  proper  for  him  to  learn, 
now  he  is  intended  for.  the  sea.  But  stop !  here  comes  in  the 
punchbowls  ;  and  if  we  are  not  happy,  who  is  ?  I  say  I  am  like  tho 
Swish  people,  for  I  can't  flourish  out  of  my  native  hair. 


THE    MEMOIRS 


OP 


MR.    CHARLES   J.  YELLOWPLUSH 


THE    MEMOIRS    OF 

MR.    C.    J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

SOMETIME  FOOTMAN  IN  MANY  GENTEEL  FAMILIES 

MISS    SHUM'S    HUSBAND 


CHAPTER   I 

1WAS  born  in  the  year  one  of  the  present  or  Christian  hera, 
and  am,  in  consqnints,  seven-and-tliirty  years  old.  My  niunima 
called  me  Charles  James  Harrington  Fitzroy  Yellowiilush,  in 
compliment  to  several  noble  families,  and  to  a  sellybrated  coachmin 
whom  she  knew,  who  wore  a  yellow  livry,  and  drove  the  Lord 
Mayor  of  London. 

Why  she  gev  me  this  genlmn's  name  is  a  diftiklty,  or  raythci- 
the  name  of  a  jiart  of  his  dress ;  however,  it's  stnck  to  me  throngh 
life,  in  which  I  was,  as  it  were,  a  footman  l)y  buth. 

Praps  he  was  my  father — though  on  this  snbjict  I  can't  speak 
suttinly,  for  my  ma  wrai)ped  up  my  liuth  in  a  niistry.  I  may  be 
illygitmit,  I  may  have  l^een  changed  at  nuss ;  but  I've  always  had 
genlmnly  tastes  through  life,  and  have  no  doubt  that  I  come  of  a 
genlinnly  origum. 

The  less  I  say  about  my  parint  the  better,  for  the  dear  old 
creatur  was  very  good  to  me,  and,  I  fear,  had  very  little  other 
goodness  in  her.  Why,  I  can't  say ;  but  I  always  passed  as  her 
nevyou.  We  led  a  strange  life ;  sometimes  ma  was  dressed  in 
sattn  and  rooge,  and  sometimes  in  rags  and  dutt ;  sometimes  I  got 
kisses,  and  sometimes  kix  ;  sometimes  gin,  and  sometimes  shampang  ; 
law  bless  us  !  how  she  used  to  swear  at  me,  and  cuddle  me ;  there 
we  were,  quarrelling  and  making  up,  sober  and  tipsy,  starving  and 
guttling  by  turns,  just  as  ma  got  money  or  spent  it.  But  lot  mo 
draw  a  vail  over  the  seen,  and  speak  of  her  no  more — it's  sfishunt 


238      MEMOIRS    OF    MR.    C.    J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

for  the  public  to  know,  that  her  name  was  Miss  Montmorency,  and 
we  lived  in  the  New  Cut. 

My  poor  mother  died  one  morning,  Hev'n  bless  her  !  and  I  was 
left  alone  in  this  wide  wicked  wuld,  without  so  much  money  as 
would  buy  me  a  penny  roal  for  my  brexfast.  But  there  was  some 
amongst  our  naybours  (and  let  me  tell  you  there's  more  kindness 
among  tliem  poor  disrepettable  creaturs  tlian  in  half-a-dozen  lords 
or  barrynets)  who  took  pity  upon  poor  Sal's  orfin  (for  they  bust 
out  liiffin  when  I  called  her  Miss  Montmorency),  and  gev  me  bred 
and  shelter.  I'm  afraid,  in  spite  of  their  kindness,  that  my  morrils 
wouldn't  have  improved  if  I'd  stayed  long  among  'em.  But  a  benny- 
violent  genlmn  saw  me,  and  put  me  to  school.  The  academy  which 
I  went  to  was  called  the  Free  School  of  Saint  Bartholomew's  the 
Less — the  young  genlmn  wore  green  baize  coats,  yellow  leather 
whatsisnames,  a  tin  plate  on  the  left  arm,  and  a  cap  about  tlie  size 
of  a  mutfing.  I  stayed  there  sicks  years ;  from  sicks,  that  is  to 
say,  till  my  twelth  year,  during  three  years  of  witch  I  distinguished 
myself  not  a  little  in  the  musicle  way,  for  I  bloo  the  bellus  of  the 
church  horgin,  and  very  fine  tunes  we  played  too. 

Well,  it's  not  worth  recounting  my  jcwvenile  follies  (what  trix 
we  used  to  play  the  applewoman  !  and  how  we  put  snuff  in  the 
old  dark's  Prayer-book — my  eye  !) ;  but  one  day,  a  genlmn  entered 
the  school-room — it  was  on  the  very  day  when  I  went  to  subtraxion 
— and  asked  the  master  for  a  yotmg  lad  for  a  servant.  They 
pitched  upon  me  glad  enough ;  and  nex  day  found  me  sleeping  in 
the  sculry,  close  under  the  sink,  at  j\Ir.  Bago's  country-house  at 
Pentonwille. 

Bago  kep  a  shop  in  Sniitlifield  market,  and  drov  a  taring  good 
trade  in  the  hoil  and  Italian  way.  I've  heard  him  say,  that  he 
cleared  no  less  than  fifty  pounds  every  year  by  letting  his  front 
room  at  hanging  time.  His  winders  looked  right  ojisit  Ncwgit, 
and  many  and  many  dozen  chaps  has  he  seen  hanging  there.  Laws 
was  laws  in  the  year  ten,  and  they  screwed  chaps'  nex  for  nex  to 
nothink.  But  my  bisniss  was  at  his  country-house,  where  1 
made  my  first  ontray  into  fashnabl  life.  I  was  knife,  errint,  and 
stable-boy  then,  and  an't  ashamed  to  own  it ;  for  my  merrits 
have  raised  me  to  what  I  am — two  livries,  forty  pound  a  year, 
malt-licker,  washin,  silk-stocking,  and  wax  candles- -not  counting 
wails,  which  is  somethink  i)retty  considerable  at  oxir  house,  I  can 
tell  you. 

I  didn't  stay  long  here,  for  a  suckmstance  happened  which  got 
me  a  very  different  situation.  A  handsome  young  genlmn,  who 
kep  a  tilbry  and  a  ridin  lioss  at  livry  wanted  a  tiger.  I  bid  at 
once  for  the  place ;  and,  being  a  neat  tidy-looking  lad,  he  took  me. 


MISS    SHUM'S    HUSBAND  239 

Bago  gave  me  a  character,  and  he  my  first  livry ;  proud  enough  I 
was  of  it,  as  you  may  fancy. 

My  new  master  had  some  business  in  the  City,  for  he  went  in 
every  morning  at  ten,  got  out  of  his  tilbry  at  the  Oitty  Road,  and 
had  it  waiting  for  him  at  six ;  when,  if  it  was  sunmicr,  he  spanked 
round  into  the  Park,  and  drove  one  of  the  neatest  turnouts  there. 
Wery  proud  I  was  in  a  gold-laced  hat,  a  drab  coat  and  a  red  weskit, 
to  sit  by  his  side,  when  he  drove.  I  already  began  to  ogle  the  gals 
in  the  carridges,  and  to  feel  that  longing  for  fashionabl  life  which. 
I've  had  ever  since.  When  he  was  at  the  oppera,  or  the  play, 
down  I  went  to  skittles,  or  to  White  Condick  Gardens;  and  Mr. 
Frederic  Altamont's  young  man  was  somebody,  I  warrant :  to  be 
sure  there  is  very  few  man-servants  at  PentonwiUe,  the  poppylation 
being  mostly  gals  of  all  work  ;  and  so,  though  only  fourteen,  I  was 
as  much  a  man  down  there,  as  if  I  had  been  as  old  as  Jerusalem. 

But  the  most  singular  thing  was,  that  my  master,  who  was 
such  a  gay  chap,  should  live  in  such  a  hole.  He  had  only  a  ground- 
floor  in  John  Street^a  parlor  and  a  bedroom.  I  slep  over  the  way, 
and  only  came  in  with  his  boots  and  brexfast  of  a  morning. 

The  house  he  lodged  in  belonged  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Shum.  They 
were  a  poor  but  proliflfic  coujjle,  who  had  rented  the  place  for  many 
years ;  and  they  and  their  family  were  squeezed  in  it  pretty  tight, 
I  can  tell  you. 

Shmn  said  he  had  been  a  hofficer,  and  so  he  had.  He  had  been 
a  sub-deputy  assistant  vice-commissary,  or  some  such  think ;  and, 
as  I  heerd  afterwards,  had  been  obliged  to  leave  on  account  of  his 
nervousness.  He  was  such  a  coward,  the  fact  is,  that  he  was  con- 
sidered dangerous  to  the  harmy,  and  sent  home. 

He  had  married  a  widow  Buckmaster,  who  had  been  a  Miss 
Slamcoe.  She  was  a  Bristol  gal ;  and  her  fether  being  a  baiikrup 
in  the  tallow-chandlering  way,  left,  in  course,  a  pretty  little  sum  of 
money.  A  thousand  pound  was  settled  'on  her ;  and  she  was  as 
high  and  mighty  as  if  it  had  been  a  millium. 

Buckmaster  died,  leaving  nothink ;  nothink  except  four  ugly 
daughters  by  Miss  Slamcoe  :  and  her  forty  pound  a  year  was  rayther 
a  narrow  income  for  one  of  her  appytite  and  pretensions.  In  an 
unlucky  hour  for  Shum  she  met  him.  He  was  a  widower  with  a 
little  daughter  of  three  years  old,  a  little  house  at  PentonwiUe,  and 
a  little  income  about  as  big  as  her  own.  I  believe  she  buUyd  the 
poor  creature  into  marridge ;  and  it  was  agreed  that  he  should 
let  his  ground-floor  at  John  Street,  and  so  add  somethink  to  their 
means. 

They  married ;  and  the  widow  Buckmaster  was  the  grey  mare, 
I  can  tell  you.     She  was  always  talking  and  blustering  about  her 


240     MEMOIRS    OF   MR.    C.    J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

famly,  the  celebrity  of  the  Buckmasters,  and  the  antickety  of  the 
Slamcoes.  They  had  a  six-roomed  house  (noc  counting  kitching  and 
sculry),  and  now  twelve  daughters  in  all ;  whizz. — 4  Miss  Buck- 
masters  :  Miss  Betsy,  Miss  Dosy,  Miss  Biddy,  and  Miss  Winny ; 
1  Miss  Shum,  Mary  by  name,  Shura's  daughter,  and  seven  others, 
who  shall  be  nameless.  Mrs.  Slmin  w;is  a  fat  red-haired  woman,  at 
least  a  foot  taller  than  S.,  Avho  was  but  a  yard  and  a  half  high, 
pale-faced,  red-nosed,  knock-kneed,  bald-headed,  his  nose  and  shut- 
frill  all  brown  with  snuff. 

Before  tlie  house  was  a  little  garden,  where  the  washin  of  the 
famly  was  all  ways  hanging.  There  was  so  many  of  'em  that 
it  was  obliged  to  be  done  by  relays.  There  was  six  rails  and  a 
stocking  on  each,  and  four  small  goosbry  bushes,  always  covered 
with  some  bit  of  linning  or  other.  The  hall  was  a  regular  puddle  : 
wet  dabs  of  dLshclouts  flapped  in  yi)ur  face  ;  soapy  smoking  bits  of 
flanning  went  nigh  to  choke  you ;  and  while  you  were  looking  up 
to  prevent  hanging  yourself  with  the  ropes  which  were  stnmg  across 
and  about,  slap  came  the  hedge  of  a  pail  against  yoiu-  shins,  till  one 
was  like  to  be  drove  mad  with  hagony.  The  gi-eat  slattnly  doddling 
girls  was  always  on  the  stairs,  poking  about  with  nasty  flower-i)i)ts, 
a-cooking  something,  or  sprawling  in  the  window-seats  witli  greasy 
curl-pajters,  reading  greasy  novels.  An  infernal  i)ianna  was  jingling 
from  morning  till  night — two  eldest  Miss  Buckma-sters,  "  Battle  of 
Prag" — six  yoimgest  Miss  Shunis,  "In  my  Cottage,"  till  I  knew 
every  note  in  the  "  Battle  of  Prag,"  and  cussed  the  day  when 
"  In  my  Cottage  "  w;is  rote.  The  younger  girls,  too,  were  always 
bouncing  and  tlnuniting  about  the  house,  with  torn  jiinnyfores,  and 
dogs-eard  grammars,  and  large  pieces  of  bread  and  treacle.  I  never 
see  sucli  a  house. 

As  for  Mrs.  Slium,  she  was  such  a  fine  lady,  that  she  did 
nothink  but  lay  on  the  drawing-room  sojihy,  read  novels,  drink, 
scold,  scream,  and  go  into  liystarrix.  Little  Sluun  kej)  reading  an 
old  newspaper  from  weeks'  end  to  weeks'  end,  wlien  he  Avas  not 
engaged  in  teaching  the  children,  or  goin  for  the  beer,  or  cleanin 
tlio  slioes  :  for  tlicy  kcp  no  sci-vant.  This  house  in  .Tohn  Street 
was  in  short  a  regular  Pandymony. 

What  could  have  brought  Mr.  Frederic  Altamont  to  dwel  in 
such  a  place  ?  The  reason  is  hobvius :  he  adoared  the  fiist  Miss 
Shum. 

And  suttnly  lie  did  not  show  a  bad  ta.ste ;  for  though  the  other 
daughters  were  as  ugly  as  their  hideous  ma,  Mary  Shum  was  a 
pretty  little  ]iink  modest  creatiu",  with  glossy  black  hair  and  tender 
blue  eyes,  and  a  neck  as  white  as  plaster  of  Parish.  She  wore  a 
dismal  old  black  gownd,  which  had  grown  too  short  for  her,  and 


MISS    SHUM'S    HUSBAND  241 

too  tight ;  but  it  only  served  to  show  her  pretty  angles  and  feet, 
and  bewchus  figger.  Master,  though  he  had  looked  rather  low  for 
the  gal  of  his  art,  had  certainly  looked  in  the  right  place.  Never 
was  one  more  pretty  or  more  hamiable.  I  gav  her  always  the 
buttered  toast  left  from  our  brexfast,  and  a  cup  of  tea  or  chocklate, 
as  Altaraont  might  fancy  :  and  the  poor  thing  was  glad  enough  of 
it,  I  can  vouch  ;  for  they  had  precious  short  commons  upstairs,  and 
she  the  least  of  all. 

For  it  seemed  as  if  which  of  the  Shum  famly  should  try  to  snub 
the  poor  thing  most.  There  was  the  four  Buckmaster  girls  always 
at  her.  It  was,  Mary,  git  the  coal-skittle ;  Mary,  run  down  to  the 
public-house  for  the  beer ;  Mary,  I  intend  to  wear  your  clean 
stockens  out  walking,  or  your  new  bonnet  to  church.  Only  her 
poor  father  was  kind  to  her ;  and  he,  poor  old  muff !  his  kindness 
was  of  no  use,  Mary  bore  all  the  scolding  like  a  hangel,  as  she 
was :  no,  not  if  she  had  a  pair  of  wings  and  a  goold  trumpet,  could 
she  have  been  a  greater  hangel. 

I  never  shall  forgit  one  seen  that  took  place.  It  was  when 
Master  was  in  the  City ;  and  so,  having  nothink  earthly  to  do,  I 
happened  to  be  listening  on  the  stairs.  The  old  scolding  was 
a-going  on,  and  the  old  tune  of  that  hojus  "  Battle  of  Prag."  Old 
Shum  made  some  remark  ;  and  Miss  Buckmaster  cried  out,  "  Law, 
pa  !  wliat  a  fool  you  are ! "  All  the  gals  began  laffin,  and  so  did 
Mrs.  Shum ;  all,  that  is,  excep  Mary,  who  turned  as  red  as  flams, 
and  going  up  to  Miss  Betsy  Buckmaster,  give  her  two  such  wax 
on  her  great  red  ears  as  made  them  tingle  again. 

Old  Mrs.  Shum  screamed,  and  ran  at  her  like  a  Bengal  tiger. 
Her  great  arms  vent  veeling  about  like  a  vinmill,  as  she  cufted  and 
thumped  poor  Mary  for  taking  her  pa's  i)art.  Mary  Shum,  who 
was  always  a-crying  before,  didn't  shed  a  tear  now.  "  I  will  do  it 
again,"  she  said,  "if  Betsy  insults  my  father."  New  thumps,  new 
shreex !  and  the  old  horridan  wenf  on  beatin  the  poor  girl  till  she 
was  quite  exosted,  and  fell  down  on  the  sophy,  puffin  like  a 
poppus. 

"  For  shame,  Mary,"  began  old  Shum  ;  "  for  shame,  you  naughty 
gal,  you  !  for  hurting  the  feelings  of  your  dear  mamma,  and  beating 
your  kind  sister." 

"  Why,  it  was  because  she  called  you  a " 

"  If  she  did,  you  pert  miss,"  said  Shum,  looking  mighty  digniti- 
fied,  "  I  could  correct  her,  and  not  you." 

"  You  correct  me,  indeed  !  "  said  Miss  Betsy,  turning  up  her 
nose,  if  possible,  higher  than  before  ;  "  I  should  like  to  see  you  erect 
me  !     Imperence  ! "  and  they  all  began  laffin  again. 

By  this  time  Mrs.  S.  had  recovered  from  the  effex  of  her  exsize. 


242      MEMOIRS    OF   MR.    C.    J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

and  she  began  to  pour  in  hei'  wolly.     Fust  she  called  Mary  names, 
then  Shum. 

"  Oh,  "why,"  screeched  she,  "  why  did  I  ever  leave  a  genteel 
famly,  wliere  I  'ad  every  ellygance  and  lucksry,  to  marry  a 
creatur  like  this?  He  is  unfit  to  be  called  a  man,  he  is  un- 
worthy to  niarrj"^  a  gentlewoman  ;  and  as  for  that  hussy,  I  disown 
"  her.  Thank  Heaven  she  an't  a  Slamcoe ;  she  is  only  fit  to  be  a 
Shum  !  " 

"  That's  true,  mamma,"  said  all  the  gals ;  for  their  mother  had 
taught  them  tliis  pretty  piece  of  manners,  and  they  despised  their 
father  heartily  :  indeed,  I  have  always  remarked  tliat,  in  famlies 
wliere  the  wife  is  internally  talking  about  the  merits  of  her  branch, 
the  husband  is  invariably  a  spooney. 

Well,  when  she  was  oxosted  again,  down  she  foil  on  the  sofy,  at 
her  old  trlx— more  screeching — more  convulshuns  :  and  she  wouldn't 
stop,  this  time,  till  Shum  had  got  Ii't  half  a  ])int  of  lier  old  remedy 
from  tlie  "  Blue  Lion  "  over  the  way.  She  grew  more  easy  as  she 
finished  the  gin  ;  but  Mary  was  sent  out  of  the  room,  and  told  not 
to  come  back  agin  all  day. 

"  Miss  Mary,"  says  I, — for  my  lieart  yurned  to  the  poor  gal, 
as  she  came  sobbing  and  miserable  <lownstairs :  "Miss  I^Fary," 
says  I,  "  if  I  might  make  so  bold,  here's  master's  room  empty, 
and  I  know  where  the  cold  bif  and  pickles  is."  "  Oh,  Charles  ! " 
saiil  she,  nodding  her  head  sa<lly,  "  I'm  too  retclied  to  have  any 
happy tite."  And  she  flung  herself  on  a  chair,  and  began  to  ciy  fit 
to  bust. 

At  tliis  moment,  who  should  come  in  but  my  master.  I  had 
taken  hold  of  i\Iiss  Mary's  hand,  somehow,  and  do  believe  I  shoidd 
have  kist  it,  when,  as  I  said,  Haltamont  made  his  aiijicaranre. 
"What's  this?"  cries  he,  lookin  at  me  as  bhick  as  tluuidcr,  or  as 
Mr.  Pliillips  as  Hickit,  in  tlie  new  tragedy  of  Mac  Buff. 

"  It's  only  ]\Iiss  INIary,  sir,"  answered  I. 

"Get  out,  sir,"  says  he,  as  fierce  as  poslul ;  and  I  felt  somethink 
(I  think  it  was  the  tip  of  his  to)  touching  me  l^ehind,  and  found 
myself,  nex  minit,  sprawling  among  the  wet  flannings  and  buckets 
and  things. 

The  people  from  upstairs  came  to  see  what  was  the  matter,  as  I 
was  cussin  and  crjing  out.  "  It's  only  Charles,  ma,"  screamed  out 
Miss  Betsy 

"Where's  Mary?"  says  Mrs.  Shum,  from  tlie  sofy. 

"  She's  in  master's  room,  missis,"  said  I. 

"  She's  in  the  lodger's  room,  mn,"  cries  Miss  Shum,  hecko- 
ing  me. 

"Very  good  ;  tell  her  to  stay  there  till  he  comes  back."     And 


MISS    SHUM'S    HUSBAND    "  243 

then  Miss  Sliuin  went  bouncing  up  the  stairs  again,  little  knowing 
of  Haltamont's  return. 

•  •••••» 

I'd  long  before  observed  that  my  master  had  an  anchoring  after 
Mary  Shum ;  indeed,  as  I  have  said,  it  was  purely  for  her  sake 
that  he  took  and  kep  his  lodgings  at  Pentonwille.  Excep  for  the 
sake  of  love,  which  is  above  being  mersnary,  fourteen  sliillings  a 
wick  was  a  little  too  strong  for  two  such  rat-holes  as  he  lived  in. 
I  do  blieve  the  fandy  ha.d  nothing  else  but  their  lodger  to  live  on  : 
they  brektisted  off  his  tea-leaves,  they  cut  away  pounds  and  pounds 
of  meat  from  his  jints  (he  always  (lined  at  home),  and  his  baker's 
bill  was  at  least  enough  for  six.  But  that  wasn't  my  business.  I 
saw  him  grin,  sometimes,  when  I  laid  down  the  cold  bif  of  a 
morning,  to  see  how  little  was  left  of  yesterday's  sirline  ;  but  he 
never  said  a  syllabub  :  for  true  love  don't  mind  a  pound  of  meat  or 
so  hextra. 

At  first,  he  was  very  kind  and  attentive  to  all  the  gals ;  Miss 
Betsy,  in  partickler,  grew  mighty  fond  of  him :  they  sat,  for  whole 
evenings,  playing  cribbitch,  he  taking  his  pipe  and  glas,  she  her  tea 
and  nuiffing;  but  as  it  was  improper  for  her  to  come  alone,  she 
brought  one  of  her  sisters,  and  this  was  genrally  Mary,- — for  he 
made  a  pint  of  asking  her,  too, — and  one  day,  when  one  of  the 
others  came  instead,  he  told  her,  very  quitely,  that  he  hadn't  invited 
her ;  and  Miss  Buckmaster  was  too  fond  of  muffings  to  try  this 
game  on  again  :  besides,  she  was  jealous  of  her  three  grown  sisters, 
and  considered  Mary  as  only  a  child.  Law  bless  us  !  how  she  used 
to  ogle  him,  and  quot  bits  of  pottry,  and  play  "  Meet  Me  by 
Moonlike,"  on  an  old  gitter :  she  reglar  flung  herself  at  his  head : 
but  he  wouldn't  have  it,  bein  better  ockypied  elsewhere. 

One  night,  as  genteel  as  possible,  he  brought  home  tickets  for 
"  Ashley's,"  and  projiosed  to  take  the  two  young  ladies — Miss  Betsy 
and  Miss  Mary,  in  course.  I  recklect  he  called  me  aside  that  after- 
noon, assuming  a  solamon  and  misterus  hare,  "  Charles,"  said  he, 
^^ are  you  up  to  snuff?" 

"  Why,  sir,"  said  I,  "  I'm  genrally  considered  tolerably  downy." 

"  Well,"  says  he,  "  I'll  give  you  half  a  suffering  if  you  can 
manage  this  bisness  for  me ;  I've  chose  a  rainy  night  on  purpus. 
When  the  theater  is  over,  you  must  be  waitin  with  two  umbrellows  ; 
give  me  one,  and  hold  the  other  over  Miss  Buckmaster :  and,  hark 
ye,  sir,  turn  to  the  right  Avhen  you  leave  the  theater,  and  say  the 
coach  is  ordered  to  stand  a  little  way  up  the  street,  in  order  to  get 
rid  of  the  crowd." 

We  went  (in  a  fly  hired  by  Mr.  A.),  and  never  shall  I  forgit 
Cartliche's  hacting  on  that  memrable  night.     Talk  of  Kimble  !  talk 


244      MEMOIRS    OF    MR.    C.    J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

of  Magreedy !  Ashley's  for  my  money,  with  Cartlitch  in  tlie 
principal  part.  But  this  is  nothink  to  the  porpus.  When  the  play 
was  over,  I  was  at  the  door  with  the  umbrellos.  It  was  raining 
cats  and  dogs,  sure  enough. 

Mr.  Altamont  came  out  presently.  Miss  IMary  under  his  arm, 
and  Miss  Betsy  following  behind,  raytlier  sulky.  "  This  way,  sir," 
cries  I,  pushin  forward  ;  and  I  threw  a  great  cloak  over  Miss  Betsy, 
fit  to  smother  her.  Mr.  A.  and  ]\Iiss  Mary  skipped  on  and  was  out 
of  sight  when  Miss  Betsy's  cloak  was  settled,  you  may  be  sure. 

"Tliey're  only  gone  to  the  fly,  miss.  It's  a  little  way  up  the 
street,  away  from  the  crowd  of  carridges."  And  off  we  turned  to 
the  right,  and  no  mistake. 

After  marchin  a  little  through  the  ])lash  and  nuid,  "  Ha.s  any- 
body seen  Coxy's  fly  ? "  cries  I,  with  the  most  inmxent  haxent  in 
the  world. 

"  Cox's  fly  ! "  hollows  out  oiiC  chap.  "  Is  it  the  vaggin  you 
want?"  says  another.  "I  see  the  blackin  wan  iiass,"  giggles  out 
another  genlnm  ;  and  there  was  such  a  hinterchange  of  compliments 
as  you  never  heerd.  I  pass  them  over  .though,  because  some  of  'em 
were  not  very  genteel. 

"Law,  miss,"  said  I,  "what  shall  I  do?  My  master  will  never 
forgive  me ;  and  I  liaven't  a  single  sixjience  to  i)ay  a  coach."  Miss 
Betsy  was  just  going  to  caU  one  when  I  said  that ;  but  the  coach- 
man wouldn't  have  it  at  that  price,  he  said,  and  I  knew  very  well 
that  she  hadn't  four  or  five  shillings  to  pay  for  a  wehicle.  So,  in 
the  midst  of  that  tarin  rain,  at  midnight,  we  had  to  walk  four 
miles,  from  AVestminster  Bridge  to  Pentonwille ;  and  what  was 
wuss,  /  duhi't  ha/i/x'n  to  know  the  ivay.  A  very  nice  walk  it 
w^as,  and  no  mistake. 

At  about  half-i«xst  two,  we  got  safe  to  John  Street.  My  master 
was  at  the  garden  gate.  Miss  Mary  flew  into  Miss  Betsy's  arms, 
while  master  began  cussin  and  swearing  at  me  for  disolx'ying  his 
orders,  and  turning  to  the  right  instead  of  to  the  left  1  Law  bless 
me  !  his  hacting  of  hanger  w^as  very  near  as  natral  and  as  terrybl  a.s 
Mr.  Cartlich's  in  the  play. 

They  had  waited  half-an-hour,  he  said,  in  tlie  fly,  in  the  little 
street  at  the  left  of  the  theater ;  they  had  drove  up  and  flown  in 
the  greatest  fright  possible ;  and  at  last  came  home,  thinking  it  was 
in  vain  to  wait  any  more.  They  gave  her  'ot  rum-and-water  and 
roast  oysters  for  suj^pcr,  and  this  consoled  her  a  little. 

I  hope  nobody  will  cast  an  imputation  on  ]\Iiss  Mary  for  her 
share  in  this  adventer,  for  she  was  as  honest  a  gal  as  ever  lived,  and 
I  do  believe  is  hignorant  to  this  day  of  our  little  strattygim. 
Besides,  all's  fair  in  love ;  and,  as  my  master  could  never  get  to  see 


MISS    SHUM'S    HUSBAND  245 

her  alone,  on  account  of  her  infernal  eleven  sister!^  and  nia,  he  took 
this  opportunity  of  expressin  his  attachment  to  her. 

If  he  was  in  love  with  her  before,  you  may  he  sure  she  i)ai(l  it 
him  back  again  now.  Ever  after  the  night  at  Ashley's,  they  were 
as  tender  as  two  tuttle-doves — which  fully  accounts  for  the  axdent 
what  happened  to  me,  in  being  kicked  out  of  the  room :  and  in 
course  I  bore  no  mallis. 

I  don't  know  whether  Miss  Betsy  still  fancied  that  my  master 
was  in  love  with  her,  but  she  loved  muffings  and  tea,  and  kem  down 
to  his  parlor  as  much  as  ever. 

Now  comes  the  sing'lar  part  of  my  history. 


CHAPTER  II 

BUT  who  was  this  genlmn  with  a  fine  name  —  Mr.  Frederic 
Altamontl  or  what  was  lie?  The  most  mystenis  genhnu 
that  ever  I  knew.  Once  I  said  to  him  on  a  wery  rainy  day, 
"  Sir,  shall  I  bring  the  gig  down  to  your  office  ? "  and  he  gave  me 
one  of  his  black  looks  and  one  of  his  lomlest  hoaths,  and  told  me 
to  mind  my  own  bizziness,  and  attend  to  my  orders.  Another  day, 
— it  was  on  the  day  when  Miss  Mary  slapped  Miss  Betsy's  face, — 
Miss  M.,  who  adoared  him,  as  I  have  said  already,  kep  on  asking 
him  what  Avas  his  buth,  parentidg,  and  cdiccation.  "  Dear  Frederic," 
says  she,  "  why  this  mistry  about  yourself  and  your  hactions  1  why 
hide  from  your  little  Mary  " — they  were  as  tender  as  this,  I  can 
tell  you — "  your  buth  and  your  professin  1 " 

I  spose  Mr.  Frederic  looked  black,  for  I  was  onb/  listening,  and 
he  said,  in  a  voice  hagitated  by  emotion,  "  Mary,"  said  he,  "  if  you 
love  me,  ask  me  this  no  more  :  let  it  be  sfishnt  for  you  to  know  that 
I  am  a  honest  man,  and  that  a  secret,  what  it  would  be  misery  for 
you  to  lam,  must  hang  over  all  mv  actions — that  is  from  ten  o'clock 
till  six." 

They  went  on  chattin  and  talking  in  this  melumcolly  and 
mysterus  way,  and  I  didn't  lose  a  word  of  what  they  said ;  for 
them  houses  in  Penton-nille  have  oidy  walls  made  of  pasteboard, 
and  you  hear  niyther  better  outside  the  room  than  in.  But,  though 
he  kep  up  his  secret,  he  swore  to  her  his  affektion  this  day  pint 
blank.  Nothing  should  jirevent  him,  he  said,  from  leading  her  to 
tlie  halter,  from  makiu  her  his  adoarable  wife.  After  this  was  a 
slight  silence.  "  Dearest  Frederic,"  mummered  out  miss,  speakin 
as  if  she  was  chokin,  "  I  am  yours — yours  for  ever."  And  then 
silence  agen,  and  one  or  two  smax,  as  if  there  was  kissin  going  on. 
Here  I  thought  it  best  to  give  a  rattle  at  the  door-lock ;  for,  as  I 
live,  there  was  old  Mrs.  Shum  a-walkin  down  the  stairs ! 

It  appears  that  one  of  the  younger  gals,  a-looking  out  of  the 
bedrum  \nndow,  had  seen  my  master  come  in,  and  coming  down 
to  tea  half-an-hour  afterwards,  said  so  in  a  cussary  way.  Old  ]\Irs. 
Shum,  who  was  a  dragon  of  vertyou,  cam  bustling  down  the  stairs, 
lianting  and  frowning,  as  fot  and  as  fierce  as  a  old  sow  at  feedin  time. 

*'  Where's  the  lodger,  fellow  !  "  says  she  to  me. 


MISS    SHUM'S    HUSBAND  247 

I  spoke  loud  enough  to  be  heard  down  the  sti-eet— "  If  you 
mean,  ma'am,  my  master,  Mr.  Frederic  Altamont,  es(iuire,  he's  just 
stept  in,  and  is  puttiu  on  clean  shoes  in  his  bedroom." 

She  said  nothink  in  answer,  but  flumps  past  me,  and  opening 
the  parlor-door,  sees  master  looking  very  tpieer,  and  Miss  Mary 
a-drooping  do\^Ti  her  head  like  a  pale  lily. 

"Did  you  come  into  my  fandy,"  says  she,  "to  corrupt  my 
daughters,  and  to  destroy  the  hinnocence  of  that  infamous  gal  1 
Did  you  come  here,  sir,  as  a  seducer,  or  only  as  a  lodger  1  Speak, 
sir,  speak  !  "—and  she  folded  her  arms  quite  fierce,  and  looked  like 
Mrs.  Siddums  in  the  Tragic;  Mews. 

"I  came  here,  Mrs.  Shum,"  said  he,  "because  I  loA-ed  your 
daughter,  or  I  never  woidd  have  condescended  to  live  in  such  a 
beggarly  hole.  I  have  treated  her  in  every  respect  like  a  genlran, 
and  she  is  as  innocent  now,  ma'm,  as  she  was  when  she  was  born. 
If  she'll  marry  me,  I  am  ready ;  if  she'll  leave  you,  she  shall  have 
a  home  where  she  shall  be  neither  buUyd  nor  starved  :  no  hangry 
frum])s  of  sisters,  no  cross  mother-in-law,  only  an  affeckshnat  husband, 
and  all  the  pure  i»leasures  of  Hyniing." 

Mary  flung  herself  into  his  arms — "  Dear,  dear  Frederic,"  says 
she,  "  I'll  never  leave  you." 

"Miss,"  says  Mrs.  Slunn,  "you  ain't  a  Slamcoe,  nor  yet  a 
Buckmaster,  thank  God.  You  may  marry  this  person  if  your  pa 
thinks  proper,  and  he  may  insult  me — brave  me — trample  on  my 
feelinx  in  my  own  liouse — and  there's  no-o-o-obody  by  to  defend  me." 

I  knew  what  she  was  going  to  be  at :  on  came  her  histarrix 
agen,  and  she  began  screeehin  and  roarin  like  mad,  Down  comes 
of  course  the  eleven  gals  and  old  Shuui.  There  was  a  pretty  row. 
"  Look  here,  sir,"  says  she,  "  at  the  conduck  of  your  precious  trull 
of  a  daughter — alone  Avitli  this  man,  kissing  and  dandlin,  and  Lawd 
knows  what  besides." 

"  What,  he  1 "  cries  Miss  Betsy — "  he  in  love  with  Mary.  Oh, 
the  wretch,  the  monster,  the  deceiver ! " — and  she  falls  down  too, 
screeching  away  as  loud  as  her  mamma ;  for  the  silly  creatxu-e 
fancied  still  that  Altamont  had  a  fondness  for  her. 

"  Silence  these  icomeu  !  "  shouts  out  Altamont,  thundering  loud. 
"I  love  your  daughter,  Mr.  Shum.  I  will  take  her  without  a  penny, 
and  can  afford  to  keep  her.  If  you  don't  give  her  to  me,  she'll 
come  of  her  own  will.     Is  that  enough  ? — nmy  I  have  her  %  " 

"  We'll  talk  of  this  matter,  sir,"  says  Mr.  Shum,  looking  as  high 
and  mighty  as  an  aldei'man.  "  Gals,  go  upstairs  with  your  dear 
mamma." — And  they  all  trooped  up  again,  and  so  the  skrimmage 
ended. 

You  may  be  sure  tliat  old  Shum  was  not  very  sorry  to  get  a 


248      MEMOIRS   OF    MR.    C.    J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

husband  for  his  daughter  Mary,  for  the  old  creatur  loved  her  better 
than  all  the  pack  wliich  had  been  brought  him  or  born  to  him  by  Mrs. 
Buckmaster,  But,  strange  to  say,  when  he  came  to  talk  of  settle- 
ments and  so  forth,  not  a  word  would  my  master  answer.  He  said 
he  made  four  hundred  a  j^ear  reglar — he  wouldn't  tell  how — but 
Mary,  if  she  married  him,  must  share  all  that  he  had,  and  ask  no 
questions ;  only  this  he  would  say,  as  he'd  said  before,  that  he  was 
a  honest  man. 

They  were  married  in  a  few  days,  and  took  a  very  genteel  house 
at  Islington ;  but  still  my  master  went  away  to  business,  and  no- 
body knew  where.     Who  coidd  he  be  1 


CHAPTER  III 

IF  ever  a  yoim^  kipple  in  the  niiddlin  classes  began  life  with  a 
cliance  of  happiness,  it  was  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Frederic  Altamont. 
Their  house  at  Cannon  Row,  Islington,  was  as  comfortable  as 
house  could  be.  Carpited  from  top  to  to ;  pore's  rates  small ; 
furnitur  elygaut ;  and  three  deomestix  :  of  which  I,  in  course,  was 
one.  My  life  wasn't  so  easy  as  in  Mr.  A.'s  bachelor  days ;  but, 
what  tlien  1  The  three  Ws  is  my  maxum  :  plenty  of  work,  plenty 
of  wittles,  and  plenty  of  wages.  Altamont  kep  his  gig  no  longer,  but 
went  to  the  City  in  an  omlibuster. 

One  would  have  tlKJUght,  I  say,  that  Mrs.  A.,  with  such  an 
effeckshnut  husband,  might  have  been  as  happy  as  her  blessid 
majisty.  Nothing  of  the  sort.  For  the  fust  six  months  it  was  all 
very  well ;  but  then  she  grew  gloomier  and  gloomier,  though  A.  did 
every  think  in  life  to  please  her. 

Old  Shum  used  to  come  reglarly  four  times  a  wick  to  Cannon 
Row,  where  he  lunched,  and  dined,  and  teed,  and  supd.  The  pore 
little  man  was  a  thought  too  fond  of  wine  and  spirits ;  and  many 
and  many's  the  night  that  I've  had  to  support  him  liome.  And 
you  may  be  sure  that  Miss  Betsy  did  not  now  desert  her  sister :  slie 
was  at  our  place  mornink,  noon,  and  night ;  not  nmch  to  my 
mayster's  liking,  though  he  was  too  good-natured  to  wex  his  wife 
in  trifles. 

But  Betsy  never  had  forgotten  the  recollection  of  old  days,  and 
hated  Altamont  like  the  foul  felnd.  She  put  all  kind  of  bad  things 
into  the  head  of  poor  innocent  missis ;  who,  from  being  all  gaiety 
and  cheerfulness,  grew  to  be  quite  melumcolly  and  pale,  and  retchid, 
just  as  if  she  had  been  the  most  misrable  woman  in  the  world. 

In  three  months  more  a  baby  comes,  in  course,  and  witli  it  old 
Mrs.  Shum,  who  stuck  to  Mrs.'  side  as  close  as  a  wampire,  and 
made  her  retchider  and  retchider.  She  used  to  bust  into  tears 
when  Altamont  came  home :  she  used  to  sigh  and  wheep  over  the 
pore  child,  and  say.  "My  child,  my  child,  your  fiither  is  false  to 
me  ;  *  or,  "  your  father  deceives  me  ; "  or,  "  what  will  you  do  when 
your  pore  mother  is  no  more  1 "  or  such  like  sentimental  stuff". 

It  all  came  from  Mother  Shum,  and  her  old  trix,  as  I  soon  found 
out.     The  fact  is,  when  there  is  a  mistry  of  this  kind  in  the  house, 


250     MEMOIRS    OF    ME.    C.    J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

it's  a  servant's  duty  to  listen ;  and  listen  I  did,  one  day  when  Mrs. 
was  cryin  as  usual,  and  fat  Mrs.  Shum  a  sittin  consolin  her,  as  she 
called  it :  though,  Heaven  knows,  she  only  grew  wuss  and  wuss  for 
the  consolation. 

Well,  I  listened ;  Mrs.  Shum  was  a-rockin  the  baby,  and  missis 
cryin  as  yousual. 

"  Pore  dear  innocint,"  says  Mrs.  S.,  heavin  a  gi'eat  sigh,  "  you're 
the  child  of  an  unknown  father  and  a  misrable  mother." 

"  Don't  speak  ill  of  Frederic,  mamma,"  says  missis ;  "  he  is  all 
kindness  to  me." 

'*  All  kindness,  indeed !  yes,  he  gives  you  a  fine  house,  and  a 
fine  gownd,  and  a  ride  in  a  fly  whenever  you  please ;  but  where 
does  all  his  money  come  from  ?  Who  is  he— what  is  he  ?  Who 
knows  that  he  mayn't  be  a  nuu'derer,  or  a  housebreaker,  or  a 
utterer  of  forged  notes?  How  can  he  make  his  money  honestly, 
when  he  won't  say  where  he  gets  it  ?  Why  (hies  he  leave  you  eight 
hours  every  blessid  day,  and  Avon't  say  where  he  goes  to?  Oh,  Mary, 
Mary,  you  are  the  most  injured  of  women  ! " 

And  with  this  Mrs.  Shum  began  sobbin ;  and  Miss  Betsy  began 
yowling  like  a  cat  in  a  gitter  ;  and  jiore  missis  cried,  too — tears  is  so 
remarkable  infeckshus. 

"  Perliaps,  mamma,"  wimpered  out  she,  "  Frederic  is  a  shopboy, 
and  don't  like  me  to  know  that  he  is  not  a  gentleman." 

"  A  shopboy,"  says  Betsy ;  "  he  a  shopboy !  0  no,  no,  no ! 
more  likely  a  wretched  willain  of  a  murderer,  stabbin  and  robing 
all  day,  and  feedin  you  with  the  fruits  of  his  ill-gotten  games  !  " 

More  crying  and  screechin  here  took  place,  in  which  the  baby 
joined  ;  and  made  a  very  pretty  consort,  I  can  tell  you. 

"  He  can't  be  a  robber,"  cries  missis ;  *'  he's  too  good,  too  kind 
for  that :  besides,  murdering  is  done  at  night,  and  Frederic  is 
always  home  at  eight." 

"  But  lie  can  be  a  forger,"  says  Betsy,  "a  wicked,  Avicked /or^er. 
Why  does  he  go  away  every  day?  to  forge  notes,  to  be  sure.  Why 
does  he  go  to  the  City  ?  to  lie  near  banks  and  jjlaces,  and  so  do 
it  more  at  his  convenience." 

"  But  he  brings  home  a  sum  of  money  every  day — about  thirty ' 
shillings— sometimes  fifty  :  and  then  he  smiles,  and  says  it's  a  good 
day's  work.     This  is  not  like  a  forger,"  said  pore  Mrs.  A. 

"  I  have  it — I  have  it  !  "  screams  out  Mrs.  S.  "  The  villain — 
the  sneaking  double-faced  Jonas  !  he's  married  to  somebody  else,  he 
is,  and  that's  why  he  leaves  you,  the  base  biggymist ! " 

At  this,  Mrs.  Altamont,  struck  all  of  a  heap,  fainted  clean  away. 
A  dreadfid  business  it  was — hystarrix :  then  hystarrix,  in  course, 
from  Mrs.  Shum ;  bells  ringin,  child   squalin,   suvvants  tearin  up 


MISS    SHUM'S    HUSBAND  251 

and  down  stairs  with  hot  water !  If  ever  there  is  a  noosancc  in  the 
world,  it's  a  house  where  fiiintain  is  always  goin  on.  I  woiUdu't 
live  in  one, — no,  not  to  be  groom  of  the  chambers,  and  git  two 
hundred  a  year. 

It  was  eight  o'clock  in  the  eveuin  when  this  row  took  jilace ; 
and  such  a  row  it  was,  that  noliody  but  me  heard  master's  knock. 
He  came  in,  and  heard  the  hoo})ing,  and  screeching,  and  roaring. 
He  seemed  very  much  frightened  at  first,  and  said,  "  What  is  it  ? " 

"Mrs.  Shum's  here,"  says  I,  "and  Mrs.  in  astarrix." 

Altamont  looked  as  black  as  thunder,  and  growled  out  a  word 
which  I  don't  like  to  name— let  it  suffice  that  it  begins  with  a  d 
and  ends  with  a  nation  ;  and  lie  toi'c  upstairs  like  mad. 

He  bust  open  the  bedroom  door ;  missis  lay  (piite  pale  anrl 
stony  on  the  sofy ;  the  babby  was  screcchin  from  the  craddlc ; 
Miss  Betsy  was  sprawlin  over  missis;  and  Mrs.  Slniiii  lialf  on  the 
bed  and  half  on  the  groimd  :  all  Inmliu  and  s(|U('cliii,  like  so  many 
dogs  at  the  moond. 

When  A.  came  in,  the  mother  and  daughter  stopped  all  of  a 
sudding.  There  had  been  one  or  two  tifis  before  between  them,  and 
they  feared  him  as  if  he  had  been  a  hogre. 

"What's  this  infernal  screeching  and  crying  about  1"  says  he. 
"  Oh,  Mr.  Altamont,"  cries  the  old  woman,  "  you  know  too  well ; 
it's  about  you  that  this  darling  child  is  misrabble  ! " 

"  And  why  about  me,  pray,  madain  1 " 

"  Why,  sir,  dare  you  ask  why  1  Because  you  deceive  her,  sir  ; 
because  you  are  a  false  cowardly  traitor,  sir;  because  you  have  a 
ivlfe  ehetvhere,  sir  !  "  And  the  old  lady  and  Miss  Betsy  began  to 
roar  again  as  loud  as  ever. 

Altamont  pawsed  for  a  miunit,  aiid  then  fiung  the  door  wide 
open  ;  nex  he  seized  Miss  Betsy  as  if  his  hand  were  a  vice,  and  he 
world  her  out  of  the  room  ;  then  up  he  goes  to  Mrs.  S.  "  Get  uj)," 
says  he,  thundering  loud,  "  you  lazy,  trollopping,  mischief-making, 
lying  old  fool !  Get  up,  and  get  out  of  this  house.  You  liave  been 
the  cuss  and  bain  of  my  happyniss  since  you  entered  it.  With  your 
d — d  lies,  and  novvle  reading,  and  histcrrix,  you  have  pcrwerted 
Mary,  and  made  her  almost  as  mad  as  yourself." 

"  My  child  !  my  child  ! "  shriex  out  Mrs.  Shum,  and  clings 
round  missis.  But  Altamont  ran  between  them,  and  griping  the 
old  lady  by  her  arm,  dragged  her  to  th(>.  door.  "  Follow  your 
daughter,  ma'm,"  says  he,  and  down  she  went.  "  Chawls,  see 
those  ladies  to  the  door,"  he  hollows  out,  "and  ^]v\■^^T  let  them  pass 
it  again."  We  walked  down  together,  and  ott"  they  went  :  and 
master  locked  and  double-locked  the  bedroom  door  after  him,  intendin, 
of  course,  to  have  a  tator-tator  (as  they  say)  with  his  wife.     You 


252      MEMOIRS    OF    MR.    C.    J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

may  be  sure  that  I  followed  upstairs  again  pretty  quick,  to  hear  the 
result  of  their  confidence. 

As  they  say  at  St.  Steveneses,  it  was  rayther  a  stormy  debate. 
"  Mary,"  says  master,  "  you're  no  longer  the  merry  grateful  gal  I 
knew  and  loved  at  Pentouwill :  there's  some  secret  a  pressin  on  you 
— there's  no  smilin  welcom  for  me  now,  as  there  used  formly  to  be ! 
Your  mother  and  sister-in-law  have  perwerted  you,  Mary  :  and  that's 
why  I've  drove  them  fi'om  this  house,  which  they  shall  not  re-enter 
in  my  life." 

"  0  Frederic  !  it's  you  is  the  cause,  and  not  I.  Why  do  you 
have  any  mistry  from  me  1  Where  do  you  spend  your  days  ?  Why 
did  you  leave  me,  even  on  the  day  of  youi'  marridge,  for  eight  hoiu-s, 
and  continue  to  do  so  every  day  1 " 

"  Because,"  says  he,  "  I  makes  my  livelihood  by  it.  I  leave 
you,  and  don't  tell  you  hoio  I  make  it :  for  it  would  make  you  none 
the  happier  to  know." 

It  was  in  this  way  the  convysation  ren  on — more  tears  and 
questions  on  my  missises  part,  more  stiirmness  and  silence  on  my 
master's  :  it  ended  for  the  first  time  since  their  marridge,  in  a  reglar 
quarrel.  Wery  difrent,  I  can  tell  you,  from  all  the  hammerous 
billing  and  kewing  which  had  i>roceeded  their  nuiDshuls. 

Master  went  out,  slamming  the  door  in  a  fury ;  as  well  he 
might.  Says  he,  "  If  I  can't  have  a  comforable  life,  I  can  have  a 
jolly  one ; "  and  so  he  went  ofi"  to  the  hed  tavern,  and  came  home 
tliat  evening  beesly  iutawsicated.  When  high  words  begin  in  a 
family,  drink  generally  follows  on  the  genlman's  side ;  and  then, 
fearwell  to  all  conjubial  happyniss !  These  two  pipple,  so  fond  and 
loving,  were  now  sirly,  silent,  and  full  of  il  wil.  Master  went  out 
earlier,  and  came  home  later ;  missis  cried  more,  and  looked  even 
paler  than  before. 

Well,  tilings  went  on  in  this  uncomfortable  way,  master  still  in 
the  mopes,  missis  tempted  by  the  deamons  of  jellosy  and  cm-osity ; 
until  a  singlar  axident  brought  to  light  all  the  goings  on  of  Mr. 
Altamont. 

It  was  the  tenth  of  January ;  I  recklect  the  day,  for  old  Shum 
gev  me  half-a-crownd  (the  fust  and  last  of  his  money  I  ever  see,  by 
the  way) :  he  was  dining  along  with  master,  and  they  were  making 
merry  together. 

Master  said,  as  he  was  mixing  his  fifth  tumler  of  punch  and 
little  Shum  his  twelfth  or  so — master  said,  "  I  see  you  twice  in  the 
City  to-day,  Mr.  Shum." 

"Well,  that's  curous ! "  says  Shum.  *I  was  in  the  City. 
To-day's  the  day  when  the  divvydins  (God  bless  'em)  is  paid  ;  and 
me  and  Mrs.  S.  went  for  our  half-year's  inkem.     But  we  only  got 


MISS    SHUM'S    HUSBAND  255 

out  of  the  coach,  crossed  tlie  street  to  the  Bank,  took  our  money, 
and  got  in  agen.     How  could  y(ni  see  ine  twice  1 " 

Altamont  stuttered  and  stauunered  and  hemd,  and  hawd.  "  0 !' 
says  he,  "  I  was  passing — passing  as  you  went  in  and  out."  And 
he  instantly  turned  the  conversation,  and  began  talking  about  polly- 
tix,  or  the  weather,  or  some  such  stuff. 

"  Yes,  my  dear,"  said  my  missis,  "  but  how  could  you  see  papa 
tivice  ?  "  Master  didn't  answer,  but  talked  pollytix  more  than  ever. 
Still  she  would  continy  on.  "AVhere  was  you,  my  dear,  when  you 
saw  jia  ?  What  were  you  doing,  my  love,  to  see  pa  twice  ? "  and 
so  forth.  Master  looked  angrier  and  angrier,  and  his  wife  only 
pressed  him  wuss  and  wuss. 

This  was,  as  I  said,  little  Shuni's  twelfth  tumlcr  ;  and  I  knew 
pritty  well  that  he  could  git  very  little  further ;  for  as  reglar  as  the 
thirteenth  came,  Shum  was  drunk.  The  thirteenth  did  come,  and 
its  consquinzes.  I  was  obliged  to  leed  him  home  to  John  Street, 
where  I  left  him  in  the  lian.gry  arms  of  Mrs.  Shum. 

"How  the  d— ,"  sayd  he  all  the  way,  "how  the  d-dd — the 
deddy — deddy — devil — could  he  have  seen  me  twice  I " 


CHAPTER  IV 

IT  was  a  sad  slip  ou  Altaiuout's  part,  for  no  sooner  did  he  go  out 
the  next  morning  than  missis  went  out  too.  She  tor  down  the 
street,  and  never  stopped  till  she  came  to  her  pa's  house  at 
Pentonwill.  Slie  was  clositid  for  an  hour  with  her  ma,  and  when 
she  left  her  she  drove  straight  to  the  City.  She  walked  before  the 
Bank,  and  behind  the  Bank,  and  round  the  Bank :  she  came  home 
disperryted,  having  learned  uothink. 

And  it  was  now  an  extraordinary  thing  that  from  Shum's  house 
for  the  next  ten  days  there  was  nothing  but  expyditions  into  the 
City.  Mrs.  S.,  tho'  her  dropsicle  legs  had  never  carred  her  half  so 
fur  before,  was  eternally  on  the  hey  veve,  as  the  French  say.  If 
she  didn't  go.  Miss  Betsy  did,  or  missis  did :  they  seemed  to  have 
an  attrackshun  to  the  Bank,  and  went  there  as  natral  as  an  omlibus. 

At  last  one  day,  old  Mrs.  Slium  comes  to  our  house — (she  wasn't 
admitted  wheu  master  was  there,  but  came  still  in  his  absints) — 
and  she  wore  a  hair  of  tryumph,  as  she  entered.  "  Mary,"  says 
she,  "where  is  the  money  your  husbind  brought  to  you  yesterday  1" 
My  master  used  always  to  give  it  to  missis  M'heu  he  returned. 

"  The  money,  ma  !  "  says  Mary.  "  Why  here  ! "  And  pulling 
out  her  puss,  she  showed  a  sovrin,  a  good  heap  of  silver,  and  an 
odd-looking  little  coin. 

"That's  it!  that's  it!"  cried  Mrs.  S.  "A  Queene  Anne's 
sixpence,  isn't  it,  dear — dated  seventeen  hundred  and  three  1 " 

It  was  so  sure  enough :  a  Queen  Ans  sixpence  of  that  very  data 

"Now,  my  love,"  says  she,  "I  have  found  him-!  Come  witn 
me  to-morrow,  and  you  shall  know  all  ! " 

And  now  comes  the  end  of  my  story. 

•  •••••• 

The  ladies  nex  morning  set  out  for  the  City,  and  I  walked 
behind,  doing  the  genteel  thing,  witli  a  nosegy  and  a  goold  stick. 
We  walked  down  the  New  Road — we  walked  down  the  City 
Road — we  walked  to  tlie  Bank.  We  were  crossing  from  that 
heddyfiz  to  the  other  side  of  Cornhill,  when  all  of  a  sudden  missis 
shreeked,  and  fainted  spontaceously  away. 

T  rushed  forrard,  and  raised  her  to  my  arms,  spiling  thereby  a 


MISS    SHUM'S    HUSBAND  255 

new  weskit  and  a  pair  of  crimson  smalcloes.  I  rushed  forrard.  I 
say,  very  nearly  knocking  down  tlie  old  swecjjcr  vlio  was  lioliMing 
away  as  fast  as  jjosibil.  "We  took  licr  to  Birch's ;  we  jjiovided  lier 
with  a  hackney-coach  and  every  lucksury,  and  carried  her  home  to 
Islingtoiu 

■  •»••• 

That  night  master  never  came  home.  Nor  the  nex  uiglit,  nor 
the  nex.  On  the  fouith  day  an  octioneer  arrived ;  he  took  an 
infantry  of  the  fiirnitur,  and  ])laced  a  hill  in  the  window. 

At  the  end  of  the  wick  Altamont  made  his  appearance.  He 
was  haggard  and  pale ;  not  so  haggard,  howe^'er,  not  so  pale  as  his 
miserable  wife. 

He  looked  at  her  very  tendrilly.     I  may  say,  it's  from  him  that 

I  coppied  my  look  to  Miss He  looked  at  her  very  tendrilly 

and  held  ont  his  arms.  She  gev  a  snffycating  shreek,  and  nisht 
into  his  nmhraces. 

"Mary,"  says  he,  "you  know  all  now.  I  have  sold  my  place, 
I  have  got  three  thousand  j)oiniils  for  it,  and  saved  two  more.  I've 
sold  my  house  and  furnitur,  juid  that  brings  me  another.  "Well 
go  abroad  and  love  caeh  other,  has  formly." 

And  now  you  ask  me,  Who  he  was  1  I  shudder  to  relate. 
— Mr.    Haltamont    swep   the    crossing    from    the    Bank    to 

CORNHILL  ! ! 

Of  cors,  /  left  his  servis.  I  met  him,  few  years  after,  at 
Badden-Badden,  where  he  and  Mrs.  A.  were  much  respectid  and 
pass  for  pipple  of  propaty 


THE  AMOURS   OF  MR,   DEUCE  ACE 


DIMOND    CUT    DIMOND 

THE  name  of  my  nex  master  -was,  if  posbil,  still  more  ellygant 
and  youfoiiious  tlian  that  of  my  fust.  I  now  found  myself 
boddy  servant  to  the  Honrabble  Halgernou  Percy  Deuceace, 
youngest  and  fiftli  son  of  the  Earl  of  Crabs. 

Halgernon  was  a  barrystir — that  is,  he  lived  in  Pump  Cort, 
Temple  :  a  wulgar  naybrood,  witch  praps  my  readers  don't  no. 
Suffiz  to  say,  it's  on  the  confines  of  the  Citty,  and  the  choasen 
aboad  of  the  lawyers  of  this  metra])polish. 

When  I  say  that  Mr.  Deuceace  was  a  barrystir,  I  don't  mean 
that  he  went  sesshums  or  surcoats  (as  they  call  'em),  but  simply 
that  he  kep  chambers,  lived  in  Pump  Cort,  and  looked  out  for  a 
commitionarship,  or  a  revisinship,  or  any  other  place  tliat  the  Wig 
guvvyment  could  give  him.  His  father  was  a  Wig  pier  (as  the 
lanckiss  told  me),  and  liad  been  a  Toary  pier.  The  fack  is,  his 
Lordship  was  so  poar,  that  lie  would  be  anythiuk  or  nothink,  to 
get  provisions  for  his  sons  and  an  inkum  for  himself. 

I  phansy  that  he  aloud  Halgernon -two  himdred  a  year;  and  it 
would  have  been  a  very  comforable  maintenants,  only  he  knever 
paid  him. 

Owever,  the  young  genlmn  was  a  genlmn,  and  no  mistake  ;  he  got 
his  allowents  of  nothing  a  year,  and  spent  it  in  the  most  honrabble 
and  fashnabble  manner.  He  kep  a  kab — he  went  to  Holmax — and 
Crockfud's — he  moved  in  the  most  xquizzit  suckles  and  trubbld  the 
law  boox  very  little,  I  can  tell  you.  Tliose  fashnabble  gents  liave 
ways  of  getten  money,  witch  comman  pipple  doan't  understand. 

Though  he  only  had  a  therd  floar  in  Pump  Cort,  he  lived  as  if  he 
had  the  welth  of  Cresas.  Tlie  tenpun  notes  floo  abowt  as  common 
as  haypince — clarrit  and  shampang  was  at  his  house  as  vulgar  as  gin  ; 
and  verry  glad  I  was,  to  be  sure,  to  be  a  valley  to  a  zion  of  the  nobillaty. 

Deuceace  had,  in  his  sittin-room,  a  large  pictur  on  a  sheet  of 
paper.  The  names  of  his  family  was  wrote  on  it :  it  was  wrote  in 
the  shape  of  a  tree,  a-groin  out  of  a  man-in-armer's  stomick,  and 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  257 

the  names  were  on  little  plates  among  the  bows.  The  pictur  said 
that  the  Deuceaces  kem  into  England  in  the  year  106G,  along  with 
William  Conqueruns.  My  master  called  it  liis  podygree.  I  do 
bleev  it  was  because  he  had  this  pictur,  and  because  he  was  the 
HonrahhU  Deuccacc,  that  he  mannitched  to  live  as  he  did.  If  he 
had  been  a  common  man,  vouM  have  said  he  Avas  no  better  than  a 
swinler.  It's  only  rank  and  buth  tliat  can  warrant  such  singularities 
as  my  master  show'd.  For  it's  no  use  disgysing  it — the  Honrabble 
Halgernon  was  a  gambler.  For  a  man  of  wulgar  family,  it's  the 
wust  trade  that  can  be — for  a  man  of  common  feelinx  of  honesty, 
this  profession  is  quite  im])osl)il ;  but  for  a  real  thornuglibread 
genlnui,  it's  the  esiest  and  most  ])rophetable  line  he  can  take. 

It  may  praps  appear  curious  that  such  a  fashnabble  man  should 
live  in  the  Temple;  but  it  must  be  recklected,  that  it's  not  only 
lawyers  who  live  in  what's  called  the  Ins  of  Cort.  Many  batcliylers, 
who  have  nothink  to  do  with  lor,  have  here  their  loginx ;  and  many 
sham  barrysters,  who  never  put  on  a  wig  and  gownd  twisc  in  their 
lives,  kip  apartments  in  the  Temple,  instead  of  Bon  Street,  Piekle- 
dilly,  or  other  fashnalible  places. 

Frinstance,  on  our  stairkis  (so  these  houses  are  called),  there  wa.s 
8  sets  of  chamberses,  and  only  3  lawyers.  These  was  bottom  floar, 
Screwson,  Hewson,  and  Jewson,  attorneys ;  fust  floar,  ]\Ii-.  Sergeant 
Flabber — opsite,  Mr.  Counslor  Brutty  ;  and  secknd  pair,  Mr.  Hagger- 
stony,  an  Irish  counslor,  praktising  at  the  Old  Baly,  and  lickwise  what 
they  call  reporter  to  the  Morning  Post  nyouspapper.  Opsite  him 
was  wrote 

MR.  RICHARD  BLEWITT  ; 

and  on  the  thud  floar,  with  my  master,  lived  one  Mr.  Dawkins. 

This  young  fellow  was  a  new-comer  into  the  Temple,  anxl  un- 
lucky it  was  for  him  too — he'd  better  have  never  been  born ;  foi 
it's  my  firm  apinion  that  the  Temple  ruined  him— that  is,  with  the 
help  of  my  master  and  Mr.  Dick  Blcwitt :  as  you  shall  hear. 

Mr.  Dawkins,  as  I  was  gave  to  understand  by  his  young  man, 
had  jest  left  the  Universary  of  Oxford,  and  had  a  pretty  little  fortTi 
of  his  own — six  thousand  pound,  or  so — in  the  stox.  He  was  jest 
of  age,  an  orfin  who  had  lost  his  father  and  mother ;  and  having 
distinkwished  hisself  at  Collitch,  where  he  gained  seffral  jirices,  was 
come  to  town  to  jjush  his  fortn,  and  study  the  barryster's  liisness. 

Not  bein  of  a  very  high  faumdy  hisself—  indeed,  I've  heard  say 
ins  father  Avas  a  chismongei",  or  somethink  of  that  lo  sort — Dawkins 
was  glad  to  find  his  old  Oxford  frend,  Mr.  Blewitt,  yonger  son  to 
rich  Squire  Blewitt,  of  Listershire,  and  to  take  rooms  so  near  him. 

Now,  tho'  there  was  a  considdrable  intimacy  betAveeu  me  and 

X 


258     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.    C.   J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

Mr.  Blewitt's  gentleman,  there  was  scarcely  any  betwixt  our  masters, 
— mine  being  too  jnuch  of  the  aristoxj*  to  associate  with  one  of  Mr. 
Blewitt's  sort.  Blewitt  was  what  they  call  a  bettin  man  ;  he  went 
reglar  to  Tattlesall's,  kep  a  pony,  wore  a  white  hat,  a  blue  berd's- 
■eye  handkerchcr,  and  a  cut-away  coat.  In  his  manners  he  was  tlie 
very  contrary  of  my  master,  who  was  a  slim  ellygant  man  as  ever  I 
see — he  had  very  white  liauds,  rayther  .a  sallow  face,  with  sharp 
dark  ise,  and  small  wiskus  neatly  trimmed  and  as  black  as  Warren's 
jet — he  spoke  very  low  and  soft — he  seemed  to  be  watch  in  the 
person  with  whom  he  was  in  couvysation,  and  always  flatterd 
everybody.  As  for  Blewitt,  he  was  quite  of  another  sort.  He 
was  always  swearin,  singing,  and  slappin  people  on  the  back,  as 
hearty  as  posbill.  He  seemed  a  merry,  careless,  honest  cretur, 
whom  one  would  trust  with  life  and  soul.  So  thought  Dawkins,  at 
least ;  who,  though  a  quiet  young  man,  fond  of  his  boox,  novvles, 
Byron's  poems.  Hoot-playing,  and  such  like  scientafic  amuscmints, 
grew  hand  in  glove  with  honest  Dick  Blewitt,  and  soon  after  with 
my  master,  the  Honrabble  Halgernon.  Poor  Daw  !  he  thought  he 
was  makin  good  connexions  and  real  fricmls — he  had  lalleu  in  Avith 
a  couple  of  the  most  etrocious  swinlcrs  that  ever  lived. 

Before  INIr.  Dawkins's  arrivial  at  our  house,  Mr.  Deuceace  had 
barely  condysended  to  sjieak  to  Mr.  Blewitt ;  it  was  only  about  a 
month  after  that  suckumstancc  that  my  ma.ster,  all  of  a  sudding, 
grcAV  very  friendly  witli  him.  The  reason  was  pretty  clear, — Deuceace 
tvanted  him.  Dawkins  had  not  been  an  hour  in  master's  company 
before  he  know  tliat  lie  had  a  jiidgin  to  pluck. 

Blewitt  knew  this  too  :  and  bcin  very  fond  of  pidgin,  intended  to 
keep  this  one  entirely  to  himself.  It  was  amusin  to  see  the  Hon- 
rabble Halgernon  manuvring  to  get  this  poor  bird  out  of  Blewitt's 
clause,  who  thought  he  had  it  safe.  In  fact,  lie'd  brought  Dawkins 
to  these  chambers  for  that  very  porpos,  thiid-cing  to  have  liini  under 
his  eye,  and  strip  him  at  leisure. 

My  master  very  soon  found  out  what  was  Mr.  Blewitt's  game. 
Gamblers  know  gamblers,  if  not  by  instink,  at  least  by  reputation  ; 
and  though  ^Mr.  Blewitt  moved  in  a  much  lower  sjiearc  than  Mr. 
Deuceace,  they  knew  each  other's  dealins  and  caractei-s  puffickly  well. 

"  Charles,  you  scoundrel,"  says  Deuceace  to  me  one  day  (he  always 
spoak  in  that  kind  way),  "  who  is  this  person  that  has  taken  the 
opsit  chambers,  and  plays  the  floot  so  industrusly  ?" 

"  It's  Mr.  Dawkins,  a  rich  young  gentleman  from  Oxford,  and 
a  great  friend  of  Mr.  Blewittses,  sir,"  says  I ;  "they  seem  to  live  in 
each  other's  rooms." 

Master  said  uothink,  but  he  grin^d — my  eye,  how  he  did  grin. 
Not  the  fowl  find  himself  could  snear  more  sataunicklv. 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  259 

I  kne^y  what  he  meant : 

Imprimish.  A  man  who  plays  the  floot  is  a  simpleton. 

Seeknly.  Mr.  BleAvitt  is  a  raskle. 

Thirdmo.  When  a  raskle  and  a  simpleton  is  always  together,  and 
when  the  simpleton  is  rich,  one  knows  pretty  well  what  will  come  of  it. 

I  M-as  but  a  lad  in  them  days,  luit  I  knew  what  was  wdiat,  as 
well  as  my  master;  it's  not  gentlemen  only  that's  up  to  snough. 
Law  bless  us  !  there  Avas  four  of  us  on  this  stairkes,  four  as  nice  young 
men  as  you  ever  see  :  Mr.  Brufty's  young  man,  Mr.  Dawkinses,  Mr. 
Blewitt's,  and  me — and  wc  knew  what  our  masters  was  al)out  as 
well  as  they  did  thcirselfs.  Frinstance,  I  can  say  this  for  myself, 
there  Avasn't  a  paper  in  Deuceace's  desk  or  draAver,  not  a  lull,  a  note, 
or  mimeranduni,  Avhieh  I  hadn't  read  as  Avell  as  he  :  Avith  Blewitt's  it 
Avas  the  same — me  and  his  young  man  used  to  read  'em  all.  There 
wasn't  a  bottle  of  Avine  that  aa^c  didn't  get  a  glass  out  of,  nor  a  pound 
of  sugar  that  wq  didn't  have  some  lumps  of  it.  We  had  keys  to  all 
the  cubbards — Ave  ])ii">ped  into  all  the  letters  that  kem  and  Avcnt — 
Ave  pored  over  all  the  bill-fdes — Ave'd  the  best  pickens  out  of  the 
dinners,  the  livvers  of  the  fowls,  the  forcemit  balls  out  of  the  soup, 
the  egs  from  the  sallit.  As  for  the  coals  and  candles,  avc  left  them 
to  the  landrisses.  You  may  call  this  robry — nonsince — it's  oidy  our 
rights — a  suvA'ant's  purquizzits  is  as  sacred  as  the  laAvs  of  Hengland. 

Well,  the  long  and  short  of  it  is  this.  Richard  BleAvitt,  esquire, 
AA'as  sityouated  as  follow  :  He'd  an  ineum  of  tliree  hundcrd  a  year  from 
Ins  father.  Out  of  this  he  had  to  pay  one  hunderd  and  ninety  for 
money  borroAved  by  him  at  collidge,  seventy  for  chambers,  seA'enty 
more  for  his  boss,  aty  for  his  suvvant  on  bord  wagis,  and  about  tliree 
hunderd  and  fifty  for  a  sepparat  establishment  in  the  Regency  Park ; 
besides"  this,  his  pockit-money,  say  a  hunilerd,  his  eatin,  drinkin,  and 
wine-marchant's  bill,  about  tAvo  hunderd  moar.  So  that  you  see  he 
laid  by  a  pretty  handsome  sum  at  the  end  of  the  year. 

My  master  Avas  diffrent ;  and  being  a  more  fixshnable  man  than 
Mr.  B.,  in  course  he  owed  a  deal  more  mony.     There  was  fust : — 

Account  contyay,  at  Crockford's 

Bills  of  xchange  and  I.O.U.'s  (but  he 

didn't  pay  tliese  in  most  cases) 
21  tailors'  bills,  in  all 
3  hossdealers'  do.   .... 
2  coachbuilder        .... 
Bills  contracted  at  Cambridtch 
Sundries        .  .  .  . 


.  £3711  0 

0 

.   4963  0 

0 

.   1306  11 

9 

402  0 

0 

506  0 

0 

.   2193  6 

8 

987  10 

0 

£14,069  8 

5 

26o     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.    C.    J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

I  give  tliis  as  a  ciirosity — pipple  doan't  kuow  how  in  mauy 
cases  fashnabble  life  is  carried  on  :  and  to  know  even  what  a  real 
srenlmn  owes  is  soniethink  instructif  and  aia'ceable. 

But  to  my  tail.  The  very  day  after  my  mii^ter  had  made  the 
inquiries  concerning  jMr.  Dawkins,  witch  I  mentioned  already,  he 
met  Mr.  Blewitt  on  the  stairs  ;  and  byoutiffle  it  was  to  see  how 
this  genlmn,  who  had  before  been  almost  cut  by  my  master,  was  now 
received  by  him.  One  of  the  sweetest  smiles  I  ever  saw  Avas  now 
vizzable  on  Mr.  Deuceace's  countenance.  He  held  out  his  hand, 
covered  with  a  white  kid  glove,  and  said,  in  the  most  frenly  tone  of 
vice  posbill,  "Wliat?  Mr.  Blewitt?  It  is  an  age  since  we  met. 
What  a  shame  that  such  near  nayboi-s  should  see  each  other  so 
sekhnn  ! '' 

Mr.  Blewitt,  who  was  standing  at  his  door,  in  a  pe-green 
dressing-gown,  smoaking  a  se,g-ar,  and  singing  a  hunting  coarus, 
looked  surprised,  flattereil,  and  then  suspicious. 

"Why,  yes,"  says  ho,  "it  is,  Mr.  Deuccace,  a  long  time." 

"Not,  I  think,  since  we  dined  at  Sir  George  Hookey "s.  By- 
the-byc,  what  an  evening  that  was — hay,  Mr.  Blewitt  ?  What  wine ! 
.what  capital  songs  !  I  recollect  your  '  IMay-day  in  the  morning ' — 
cuss  me,  the  best  coniick  song  I  ever  heard.  I  was  speaking  to  the 
Duke  of  Doncastcr  about  it  onlv  vestcrdav.  You  know  the  Duke, 
I  think?" 

Mr.  Blewitt  said,  quite  surly,  "  No,  I  don't." 

"Xot  know  him  ! "  cries  master;  "why,  hang  it,  Blewitt!  he 
knows  you;  as  every  sporting  man  in  England  does,  I  should 
think.  Why,  man,  your  good  things  are  in  everybody's  mouth  at 
Newmarket." 

And  so  master  went  on  chaffin  Mr.  Blewitt.  That  geiflnui  at 
fust  answered  him  quite  short  and  angiy :  but,  after  a  little  more 
flummery,  he  grew  as  pleased  as  posbill,  took  in  all  Deuceace's  flatry, 
and  bleeved  all  his  lies.  At  last  the  door  shut,  and  they  botli  went 
into  Mr.  Blewitts  chambers  together. 

Of  course  I  can't  say  what  past  there ;  but  in  an  hour  master 
Icem  up  to  his  own  room  as  yaller  as  mustard,  and  smellin  sadly  of 
backo-smoke.  I  never  see  any  genlmn  more  sick  than  he  Avas  : 
he^d  been  smoah'ii  sear/ms  along  with  Blewitt.  I  said  nothink,  in 
course,  tho'  I'd  often  heard  him  xpress  his  hon-ow  of  backo,  and 
knew  very  well  he  would  as  soon  swallow  pizon  as  smoke.  But  he 
wasn't  a  chap  to  »lo  a  thing  without  a  reason  :  if  he'd  been  smoakin, 
I  warrant  he  had  smoked  to  some  porpus. 

I  didn't  hear  the  convysation  betwean  'em ;  but  Mr.  Blewitt's 
man  did :  it  was, — "  Well,  ^Ir.  Blewitt,  what  capital  seagars  ! 
Have  you  one  for  a  friend  to  smoak  1 "     (Tlie  old  fox,  it  wasn't  only 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  261 

the  seagars  he  was  a-smoakin  !)  "  Walk  in,"  says  Mr.  Blewitt ; 
and  they  began  a-chaffin  together ;  master  verj'  ankshous  about  the 
young  gintlcinan  who  had  come  to  live  in  our  chambers,  Mr. 
Dawkins,  and  always  coming  back  to  that  subject, — saying  that 
people  on  the  same  stairkis  ot  to  be  frenly ;  how  glad  he'd  be,  for 
his  part,  to  know  Mr.  Dick  Blewitt,  and  any  friend  of  his,  and  so 
on.  Mr.  Dick,  howsever,  seamed  quite  aware  of  the  trap  laid  for 
him.  "  I  really  don't  know  this.  Dawkins,"  says  he  :  "  he's  a  chis- 
monger's  son,  I  hear  ;  and  tlio  I've  exchanged  visits  with  liim,  I 
doan't  intend  to  continyou  the  acquaintance, — not  wishin  to  assoshate 
with  that  kind  of  pij^ple."  So  they  went  on,  master  fishin,  and 
Mr.  Blewitt  not  wishin  to  take  the  hook  at  no  price. 

"Confound  the  vulgar  thief!"  muttard  my  master,  as  he  was 
laying  on  his  soj)hy,  after  being  so  very  ill ;  "  I've  jtoisoned  myself 
with  liis  infernal  tobacco,  and  lie  has  foiled  me.  The  cursed  swindling 
boor!  he  thinks  he'll  ruin  this  poor  cheesemonger,  does  hel  I'll 
step  in,  and  ^varn  him." 

I  thought  I  should  bust  a-laffin,  Avlien  he  talked  in  this  stvle. 
I  knew  very  well  what  his  "  warning  "  m.eant, — lockin  the  stable- 
door  but  stealin  the  boss  fust. 

Next  day,  his  strattygam  for  becoming  -acquainted  with  ]\Ir. 
Dawkins  we  exicuted ;  and  very  pritty  it  was. 

Besides  potry  and  the  flute,  Mr,  Dawkins,  I  must  tell  you,  had 
some  other  parshallities — wiz.,  he  was  very  fond  of  good  eatin  and 
drinkin.  After  doddling  over  his  music  and  boox  all  day,  this 
young  genlmu  used  to  sally  out  of  evenings,  dine  sumptiously  at  a 
tavern,  drinkin  all  sots  of  wine  along  witli  his  friend  Mr.  Blewitt. 
He  was  a  quiet  young  fellow  enough  at  fust ;  but  it  Avas  ]Mr.  B. 
who  (for  his  own  i)orpuses,  no  doubt)  had  got  him  into  this  kind  of 
life.  AVell,  I  needn't  say  that  he  who  eats  a  fine  dinner,  and  drinks 
too  much  overnight,  wants  a  bottle  of  soda-water,  and  a  gril,  prai)s, 
in  the  morning.  Such  was  Mr.  Dawkinses  case  ;  and  reglar  almost 
as  twelve  o'clock  came,  the  waiter  from  "Dix  Cofty-house"  was  to 
be  seen  on  our  stairkis,  bringing  u])  Mr.  D.'s  ho!  breakfast. 

No  man  would  have  tliought  tlio-e  was  anythink  in  stich  a 
trifling  cirkumstance ;  master  did,  though,  and  pounced  upon  it 
like  a  cock  on  a  barlycorn. 

He  sent  me  out"  to  ]\Ir.  Morell's  in  Picklcdilly,  for  Avot's  called 
a  Strasbug-pie— in  French,  a  "patty  dcfau  graw."  He  takes  a 
card,  and  nails  it  on  the  outside  case  (patty  deflxw  graws  conic 
generally  in  a  round  wooden  box,  like  a  drumb) ;  and  what  do  you. 
think  he  writes  on  it?  why,  as  folios  :—"  i^or  the  Honoumhle 
Algernon  Percy  Deuceace,  &c.  &c.  &c.  With  Prince  Talleyrand's 
compliments.'' 
21 


262     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.    C.    J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

Prince  Tallyram's  complimints,  indeed  !  I  laff  wlien  I  think  of 
it,  still,  the  old  surpint !  He  ^vas  a  surpint,  that  Deuceace,  and  no 
mistake. 

Well,  by  a  most  extroruary  piece  of  ill-luck,  the  nex  day 
punctially  as  Mr.  Dawkinses  brexfas  was  coming  ujj  the  stairs, 
Mr.  Halgernon  Percy  Deuceace  was  going  down.  He  was  as  gay 
as  a  lark,  humming  an  Oppra  tune,  and  t^\'izzting  round  his  head 
his  hevy  gold-headed  cane.  Down  he  went  very  fast,  and  by  a 
most  unlucky  axdent  struck  his  cane  against  the  waiter's  tray,  and 
away  went  Mr.  Dawkinses  gril,  kayann,  kitchup,  soda-water  and 
all !  I  can't  think  how  my  master  should  have  choas  such  an  exact 
time ;  to  be  sure,  his  windo  looked  upon  the  cort,  and  he  could  see 
every  one  who  came  into  our  door. 

As  soon  as  the  axdent  had  took  jilace,  master  was  in  such  a 
rage  as,  to  be  sure,  no  man  ever  was  in  befor ;  he  swoar  at  the 
waiter  in  the  most  dreddfle  way ;  he  threatened  him  with  his  stick, 
and  it  was  only  wlien  he  see  that  the  waiter  was  raythcr  a  l>igger 
man  than  hisself  that  he  was  in  the  least  pazzjiied.  He  returned 
to  his  own  chambres ;  and  John,  the  waiter,  went  off  for  more  gril 
to  Dixcs  Coffy-house. 

"  This  is  a  most  luducky  axdent,  to  be  sure,  Charles,"  says 
master  to  me,  after  a  few  minits  paws,  during  witch  he  had  been 
and  wrote  a  note,  put  it  into  an  anvelope,  and  sealed  it  with  his 
big  seal  of  arms.  "  But  stay — a  thought  strikes  me — take  this 
note  to  Mr.  Dawkins,  and  that  pye  you  brought  yesterday  ;  and 
hearkye,  you  scoundrel,  if  you  say  where  you  got  it  I  will  break 
every  bone  in  your  skin  !  " 

These  kind  of  promnuses  were  among  the  few  which  I  knew 
him  to  keep :  and  as  I  loved  boath  my  skinn  and  my  boans,  I 
carried  the  noat,  and  of  cors  said  nothink.  "Waiting  in  Mr. 
Dawkinses  chambus  for  a  few  minnits,  I  returned  to  my  master 
with  an  anscr.  I  may  as  well  give  both  of  these  documencc,  of 
which  I  happen  to  have  taken  coppies  : — 


The  Hon.  A.  P.  Deuceace  to  T.  S.  DawJdns,  Esq. 

' '  Te.mple  :  Tuesday. 

"  Mr.  Deuceace  presents  his  compliments  to  Mr.  Dawkins,  and 
begs  at  the  same  time  to  offer  his  most  sincere  apologies  and  regrets 
for  the  accident  which  has  just  taken  place. 

"  May  Mr.  Deuceace  be  allowed  to  take  a  neighbour's  privilege, 
and  to  remedy  the  evil  he  has  occasioned  to  the  best  of  his  power  1 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  263 

If  Mr.  Dawkius  will  do  him  the  favour  to  partake  of  the  contents  of 
the  accompanying  case  (froni  Strasbourg  direct,  and  the  gift  of  a 
friend,  on  whose  taste  as  a  gourmand  Mr.  Dawkins  may  rely),  per- 
haps he  will  find  that  it  is  not  a  l)ad  substitute  for  the  pl'it  wliich 
Mr.  Deuceace's  awkwardness  destroyed. 

"  It  will  also,  Mr.  Deuceace  is  sure,  be  no  small  gratification  to 
the  original  donor  of  the  jxtte  when  he  learns  that  it  has  follen  into 
the  hands  of  so  celebrate(l  a  hon  vivant  as  Mr.  Dawkins. 

"  T.  S.  Dawkins,  Esq.,  dr.  cCr.  dx." 

II 

Frotn  T.  S.  Baivkins,  Esq.,  to  the  Hon.  A.  P.  Deuceace. 

"Mr.  Thomas  Smith  Dawkins  presents  his  grateful  compli- 
ments to  the  Hon.  Mr.  Deuceace,  and  accepts  with  the  greatest 
pleasure  Mr.  Deuceace's  generous  proffer. 

"  It  would  be  one  of  the  happie&t  moments  of  Mr.  Smith  Daw- 
kius's  life,  if  the  Hon.  Mr.  Deuceace  would  extend  his  (jenerosity 
still  further,  and  condescend  to  partake  of  the  repast  wliich  liis 
tminificent  j^oliteness  has  furnished. 

"Temple:  Tuesday." 

Many  and  many  a  time,  I  say,  have  I  grin'd  over  these  letters, 
which  I  had  wrote  from  the  original  by  Mr.  Brufty's  copyin  dark. 
Deuceace's  flara  about  Prince  Tallyram  was  pufhckly  successful. 
I  saw  young  Dawkins  IjIusIi  with  delite  as  he  red  the  note ;  he 
toar  up  for  or  five  sheets  before  he  composed  the  answer  to  it,  whicli 
was  as  you  red  abuff,  and  roat  in  a  hand  quite  trembling  with 
pleasyer.  If  you  could  but  have  seen  the  look  of  triumpli  in 
Deuceace's  wicked  black  eyes,  when  he  read  the  noat !  I  never 
see  a  deamin  yet,  but  I  can  pliansy  1,  a  holding  a  writhing  ^oa\  on 
his  pitchfrock,  and  smiliu  like  Deuceace.  He  dressed  himself  in 
his  very  best  clothes,  and  in  he  went,  after  sending  me  over  to  say 
that  he  would  xcept  with  pleasyour  Mr.  Dawkins's  invite. 

The  pie  was  cut  up,  and  a  most  frenly  conversation  l)cgun 
betwixt  the  two  genlmin.  Deuceace  was  quite  cax>tivating.  He 
spoke  to  Mr.  Dawkins  in  the  most  respeckful  and  flatrin  manner, 
— agread  in  everythiuk  he  said, — prazed  his  taste,  his  fnrniter,  his 
coat,  his  classick  nolledge,  and  his  playin  on  the  floot ;  you'd  have 
thought,  to  hear  him,  that  such  a  polygon  of  exlens  as  Dawkins 
did  not  breath, — that  such  a  modist,  sinsear,  honrabble  genlmn  as 
Deuceace  was  to  be  seen  nowhere  xcept  in  Pump  Cort.  Poor  Daw 
was  complitly  taken  in.     My  master  said  he'd  introduce  him  to 


264     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.   J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

the  Duke  of  Doncaster,  and  Heaven  knows  how  many  nobs  more, 
till  Dawkins  was  quite  intawsicated  with  pleasyour.  I  know  as  a 
fac  (and  it  pretty  well  shows  the  young  genlmn's  carryter),  that  he 
went  that  very  day  and  ordered  2  new  coats,  on  porpos  to  be  intro- 
juiced  to  the  lords  in. 

But  the  best  joak  of  all  was  at  last.  Singin,  swagrin,  and 
swarink — upstares  came  Mr.  Dick  Blewitt.  He  flung  open  Mr. 
Dawkins's  door,  shouting  out,  "  Daw,  my  old  buck,  how  are  you"?" 
when,  all  of  a  sudden,  he  sees  IMr.  Deuceace  :  his  jor  dropt,  lie 
turned  chocky  white,  and  then  burnin  red,  and  looked  as  if  a  stror 
would  knock  him  down.  "  ]\Iy  dear  ]\Ir.  Blewitt,"  says  my  master, 
smilin  and  oftring  his  hand,  "  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you.  Mr. 
DaAvkins  and  I  were  just  talking  about  your  pony  !    Pray  sit  down." 

Blewitt  did ;  and  now  was  the  question,  who  should  sit  the 
other  out ;  but  law  bless  you  !  Mr.  Blewitt  was  no  match  for  my 
master :  all  the  time  he  was  fidgetty,  silent,  and  sulky ;  on  the 
contry,  master  was  charmin.  I  never  herd  such  a  flo  of  conver- 
satin,  or  so  many  wittacisms  as  he  uttered.  At  last,  completely 
beat,  Mr.  Blewitt  took  his  leaf:  that  instant  master  followed  him, 
'  and  passin  his  arm  through  that  of  Mr.  Dick,  led  him  into  our 
chambers,  and  began  talkin  to  him  in  the  most  affabl  and  afFeckshnat 
manner. 

But  Dick  was  too  angry  to  listen ;  at  last,  when  master  was 
telling  him  some  long  story  about  the  Duke  of  Doncaster,  Blewitt 
bm'st  out — 

"A  plague  on  the  Duke  of  Doncaster!  Come,  come,  Mr. 
Deuceace,  don't  you  be  running  your  rigs  upon  me ;  I  ain't  the 
man  to  be  bamboozl'd  by  long-winded  stories  about  dukes  and 
duchesses.  You  think  I  don't  know  you ;  every  man  knows  you  and 
your  line  of  country.     Yes,  you're  after  young  Dawkins  there,  and 

think  to  pluck  him  ;  but  you  shan't, — no,  by you  shan't."    (The 

reader  must  recklect  that  the  oaths  which  interspussed  Mr.  B.'s 
convysation  I  have  left  out.)  Well,  after  he'd  fired  a  woUey  of  'em, 
Mr.  Deuceace  spoke  as  cool  as  possbill. 

"  Heark  ye,  Blewitt.  I  know  you  to  be  one  of  the  most  infernal 
thieves  and  scoundrels  unhi:ng.  If  you  attempt  to  hector  ■with  me, 
I  will  cane  you  ;  if  you  want  more,  I'll  shoot  you ;  if  you  meddle 
between  me  and  Dawkins,  I  will  do  both.  I  know  your  whole  life, 
you  miserable  swindler  and  coward.  I  know  you  have  already  won 
two  hundred  jwunds  of  this  lad,  and  want  all.  I  will  have  half,  or 
you  never  shall  have  a  penny."  It's  quite  true  that  master  knew 
things ;  but  how  was  the  wonder. 

I  couldn't  see  Mr.  B.'s  face  during  this  dialogue,  bein  on  the 
wrong  side  of  the  door ;  but  there  was  a  considdrable  paws  after  thuse 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  265 

complymints  had  passed  between  the  two  genlmn,  —  one  walkin 
quickly  up  and  down  the  room, — totlier,  angiy  and  stupid,  sittiu 
down,  and  stampin  with  his  foot. 

"Now  listen  to  this,  Mr.  Blewitt,"  continues  master  at  last. 
"  If  you're  quiet,  you  shall  half  this  fellow's  money  :  but  venture 
to  win  a  shilling  from  him  in  my  absence,  or  Avithout  my  consent, 
and  you  do  it  at  your  peril." 

"  Well,  well,  Mr.  Deuceace,"  cries  Dick,  "  it's  very  hard,  and  I 
must  say,  not  fair  :  the  game  was  of  my  startin,  and  you've  no  riglit 
to  interfere  Avith  my  friend." 

"  JMr.  Blewitt,  you  are  a  fool !  You  professed  yesterday  not  to 
kn(iw  this  man,  and  I  was  obliged  to  find  liim  out  for  myself.  I 
should  like  to  know  by  what  law  of  lionour  I  am  bound  to  give  him 
up  to  you  ? " 

It  was  charmin  to  hear  this  pair  of  raskles  talking  about  honour. 
I  declare  I  could  have  found  it  in  my  heart  to  warn  yoimg  Dawkins 
of  the  precious  way  in  whicli  these  chaps  were  going  to  serve  him. 
But  if  tliey  didn't  know  what  h(inour  was,  /  did  ;  and  never,  never 
did  I  tell  tails  about  my  masters  wlien  in  their  sarvice — out,  in 
cors,  the  hobligation  is  no  longer  binding. 

Well,  the  nex  day  there  was  a  gi'an  dinner  at  our  chambers. 
White  soop,  turbit,  and  lobstir  sos ;  saddil  of  Scoch  muttn,  grous, 
and  M'Arony  ;  wines,  shampang,  hock,  jnaderia,  a  bottle  of  i)oart, 
and  ever  so  many  of  clarrit.  The  comitny  jjresint  was  three  ;  wiz., 
the  Honrabble  A.  P.  Deuceace,  R.  Blewitt,  and  Mr.  Dawkins, 
Exquires.  My  i,  how  we  genlmn  in  the  kitchin  did  enjy  it.  IMr. 
Blewittes  man  eat  so  much  grous  (wlien  it  was  brot  out  of  the 
parlor),  that  I  reely  thought  he  would  be  sik ;  ]Mr.  Dawkinses 
genlmn  (who  was  only  abowt  13  years  of  age)  gi-ew  so  il  with 
M'Arony  and  plumb-puddn,  as  to  be  obleeged  to  take  sefral  of  Mr. 
D.'s  pils,  which  ^  kild  him.  But  this  is  all  promiscuous :  I  an't 
talkin  of  the  survants  now,  but  the  masters. 

Would  you  bleeve  it  1  After  dinner  and  praps  8  bottles  of  wine 
between  the  3,  the  genlmn  sat  down  to  ecarty.  It's  a  game  whore 
only  2  plays,  and  where,  in  coarse,  when  there's  only  3,  one  looks  on. 

Fust,  they  playd  crown  pints,  and  a  pound  the  bett.  At  this 
game  they  were  wonderful  equill ;  ami  about  supper-time  (when 
grilled  am,  more  shampang,  devld  biskits,  and  other  things,  wa-s 
brot  in)  the  play  stood  thus  :  Mr.  Dawkins  had  ^^•on  L'  jiounds  ; 
Mr.  Blewitt,  30  shillings  :  the  Honrabble  Mr.  Deuceace  having  lost 
£3,  10s.  After  the  devvle  and  the  shampang  the  play  was  a  little 
higher.  Now  it  was  pound  pints,  and  five  pound  the  bet.  I  tliouglit, 
to"  be  sure,  after  hearing  the  complymints  between  Blewitt  and 
master  in  the  morning,  that  now  poor  I)awkins's  time  vras  come. 


266     MEMOIRS    OF    ME.   C.   J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

Not  so :  Dawkins  won  always,  Mr.  B.  betting  on  his  play,  and 
giving  him  tlie  very  best  of  advice.  At  the  end  of  the  evening 
(which  was  abowt  five  o'clock  the  nex  morning)  they  stopt.  Master 
was  counting  up  the  skore  on  a  card. 

"Blewitt,"  says  he,  "I've  been  unlucky.  I  owe  you — let  me 
see — yes,  five-and-forty  pounds  1 " 

"  Five-and-forty,"  says  Blewitt,  '.'  and  no  mistake  !  " 

"  I  Avill  give  you  a  cheque,"  says  tlie  honrabble  genlmn. 

"Oh  !  don't  mention  it,  my  dear  sir ! "  But  master  got  a  grate 
sheet  of  paper,  and  drew  him  a  check  on  Messeers.  Pump,  Algit, 
and  Co.,  his  bankers. 

"Now,"  says  master,  "I've  got  to  settle  with  you,  my  dear  Mr. 
Dawkins.  If  you  had  backd  your  luck,  I  should  have  owed  you  a 
very  handsome  siun  of  money.  Voi/ons,  thirteen  points  at  a  pound — 
it  is  easy  to  calculate ;  "  and  drawin  out  his  puss,  he  clinked  over 
the  table  13  goolden  suverings,  which  shon  till  they  made  my 
eyes  wink. 

So  did  pore  Dawkinses,  as  he  put  out  his  hand,  all  trembling, 
and  drew  them  in. 

"Let  me  say,"  adiled  master,  "let  me  say  (and  I've  had  some 
little  experience),  that  you  are  the  very  best  ecarte  player  with 
whom  I  ever  sat  down." 

Dawkinses  eyes  glissened  as  he  put  the  money  up,  and  said, 
"Law,  Deuceace,  you  flatter  me." 

Flatter  him  !  I  should  think  he  did.  It  was  the  very  think 
Avhich  master  mcnt. 

"  But  mind  you,  Dawkins,"  continyoud  he,  "  I  must  have  mj^ 
revenge  ;  for  I'm  ruined — positively  ruined — by  your  luck." 

"  Well,  well,"  says  Mr.  Thomas  Smith  Dawkins,  as  pleased  as  if  he 
had  gaineda  millium,  "shall  it  be  to-morrow?    Ble^\^tt,  what  say  you?" 

Mr.  Blewitt  agreed,  in  course.  ]\Iy  master,  after  a  little  demur- 
ring, consented  too.  "We'll  meet,"  says  he,  "at  your  chambers. 
But  mind,  my  dear  fello,  not  too  much  wine  :  I  can't  stand  it  at  any 
time,  especially  when  I  have  to  i)lay  ecarte  with  you." 

Pore  Dawkins  left  our  rooms  as  happy  as  a  prins.  "  Here, 
Charles,"  says  he,  and  flung  me  a  sovring.  Pore  fellow  !  pore 
fellow  !     I  knew  what  was  a-comin  ! 

But  the  best  of  it  was,  that  these  13  sovrings  which  Dawkins  won, 
master  had  borrowed  them  from  Mr.  Blewitt  !  I  brought  'em,  with 
7  more,  from  that  young  genlmu's  chandlers  that  very  morning  :  for, 
since  his  interview  with  master,  Blewitt  had  nothing  to  refuse  him. 

Well,  shall  I  continue  the  tail  ?  If  Mr.  Dawkins  had  been  the 
least  bit  wiser,  it  woidd  have  taken  him  six  months  befoar  he  lost 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  267 

his  money ;  as  it  was,  he  was  such  a  coufunded  ninny,  that  it  took 
him  a  very  short  time  to  part  with  it. 

Nex  day  (it  was  Tlnirsday,  and  master's  acquaintance  with 
Mr.  Dawkius  had  only  commenced  on  Tuesday),  Mr.  Dawkins,  as 

1  said,  gev  his  party, — dinner  at  7.  Mr.  Blcwitt  and  the  two 
Mr.  D.'s  as  bofoar.  Play  begins  at  11.  This  time  I  knew  the 
bisness  was  pretty  serious,  for  we  suvvants  was  packed  off  to  bed  at 

2  o'clock.  On  Friday,  I  went  to  chand:)ers — no  master — he  kern  in 
for  5  minutes  at  al)out  12,  made  a  little  toilit,  ordered  more  devvles 
and  soda-water,  and  back  again  he  went  to  Mr.  Dawkins's. 

They  had  dinner  there  at  7  again,  but  nobody  seamed  to  eat, 
for  all  the  vittles  came  out  to  us  genlmn  :  they  had  in  more 
wine  though,  and  must  have  drunk  at  least  two  dozen  in  the  36 
hours. 

At  ten  o'clock,  however,  on  Friday  night,  back  my  master  came 
to  his  chambers.  I  saw  him  as  I  never  saw  him  before,  namly, 
reglar  drunk.  He  staggered  about  the  room,  he  danced,  he  hickipd, 
he  swoar,  he  flung  me  a  heap  of  silver,  and,  finely,  he  sunk  ilown 
exosted  on  his  bed ;  I  pullin  off"  his  boots  and  close,  and  making 
him  comfrabble. 

When  I  had  removed  his  garmints,  I  did  what  it's  the  duty  of 
every  servant  to  do — I  emtied  his  pockits,  and  looked  at  his  pockit- 
book  and  all  his  letters  :  a  number  of  axdents  liave  been  prevented 
that  way. 

I  found  there,  among  a  heap  of  things,  the  following  pretty 
dockyment : — 


LO.U. 

£4700. 

Thomas  Smith  Dawkins. 

Friday,  1  Uh  January. 

There  was  another  lit  of  paper  of  the  same  kind — "I.O.U. 
four  hundred  pounds  :  Richard  Blewitt :  "  but  this,  in  corse,  meut 
nothink. 

Nex  mornin,  at  nine,  master  Avas  up,  and  as  sober  as  a  judg. 
He  drest,  and  was  oft'  to  Mr.  Dawkins.  At  ten,  he  ordered  a  cab, 
and  the  two  gentlmn  went  together. 


268     MEMOIRS    OF   MR.    C.    J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

"  Where  shall  he  drive,  sir  1 "  says  I. 

"Oh,  tell  him  to  drive  to  the  Bank." 

Pore  Dawkius  !  his  eyes  red  with  remors  and  .sleepliss  drunken- 
niss,  gave  a  shudder  aud  a  sob,  as  he  sunk  back  in  the  wehicle  ; 
and  they  drove  on. 

That  day  he  sold  out  every  hapny  he  was  worth,  xcept  five 
hundred  pounds. 

•  •••••• 

Abowt  12  master  had  returned,  and  Mr.  Dick  Blewitt  came 
stridin  up  the  stairs  with  a  solium  and  important  hair. 

"  Is  your  master  at  home  ? "  says  he. 

"Yes,  sir,"  says  I ;  and  in  he  walks.  I,  in  coars,  with  my  ear 
to  the  keyhole,  listning  with  all  my  mite. 

"  Well,"  says  Blewitt,  "  we  maid  a  pretty  good  night  of  it,  Mr. 
Deuceace.     Yu've  settled,  I  see,  with  Dawkins." 

"  Settled  !  "  says  master.  "  Oh  yes — yes — I've  settled  with 
him." 

"  Four  thousand  seven  hundred,  I  think  ? " 

"  About  that— yes." 

"That  makes  my  share — let  me  see — two  thousand  three 
hundred  and  fifty ;  which  I'll  thank  you  to  fork  out." 

"Upon  my  word — why— Mr.  Blewitt,"  says  master,  "I  don't 
really  understand  what  you  mean." 

"  Yon  don't  Jmow  tckat  I  mean  !  "  says  Blewitt,  in  an  axent 
such  cxs  I  never  before  heard.  "  You  don't  know  what  I  mean  ! 
Did  you  not  promise  me  that  we  were  to  go  shares'?  Didn't 
I  lend  you  twenty  sovereigns  the  other  night  to  pay  our 
losings  to  Dawkins  ?  Didn't  you  swear,  on  your  honour  as  a 
gentleman,  to  give  me  half  of  all  that  might  be  won  in  this 
atfair  ? " 

"Agreed,  sir,"  says  Deuceace;  "agreed." 

"  Well,  sir,  and  now  what  have  you  to  say  ? " 

"  Why,  that  I  donH  intend  to  heep  my  promise  !  You  infernal 
fool  and  ninny  !  do  you  suppose  I  was  labouring  for  ?/ow  /  Do  you 
fancy  I  was  going  to  the  expense  of  giving  a  dinner  to  that  jackass 
yonder,  that  you  should  profit  by  it  1  Get  away,  sir !  Leave  the 
room,  sir  !  Or,  stop — here — I  Avill  give  you  four  hundred  pounds — 
your  own  note  of  hand,  sir,  for  that  sum,  if  you  will  consent  to 
forget  all  that  has  passed  between  us,  and  that  you  have  ever  known 
Mr.  Algernon  Deuceace." 

I've  seen  pipple  angery  before  now,  but  never  any  like  Blewitt. 
He  stormed,  groaned,  helloed,  swoar !  At  last,  he  fairly  began 
blubbring;  now  cussing  and  nashing  his  teeth,  now  i^raying  dear 
Mr,  Deuceace  to  grant  him  mercy. 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  269 

At  last,  master  flung  open  the  door  (Heaven  bless  us  !  it's  weU 
I  didn't  tuml:)le  hed  over  eels  into  tlie  room  !),  and  suid,  "  Cliarles, 
show  the  gentleman  downstairs  ! "  My  master  looked  at  him  quite 
steddy.  BleAvitt  slunk  down,  as  misrabble  as  any  man  I  ever  see. 
As  for  Dawkins,  Heaven  knows  where  he  was  ! 

"  Charles,"  says  my  master  to  me,  about  an  hour  afterwards, 
"I'm  going  to  Paris;  you  may  come,  too,  if  you  please." 


FORING    PARTS 

IT  was  a  singular  proof  of  iny  master's  modesty,  that  tlioiigh  he 
had  won  this  andsome  sum  of  ]Mr.  Dawkins,  and  was  inclined  to 
be  as  extravygant  and  osntatious  as  any  man  I  ever  seed,  yet, 
when  he  determined  on  going  to  Paris,  lie  didn't  let  a  single  frend 
know  of  all  them  winnings  of  his ;  didn't  acquaint  my  Lord  Crabs  his 
father  that  he  was  about  to  leave  his  natiff  shoars — neigh — didn't 
even  so  much  as  call  together  his  tradesmin,  and  pay  off  their  little 
bills  befor  his  departiu-e. 

On  the  coutry, . "  Chawles,"  said  he  to  mc,  "  stick  a  piece  of 
paper  on  my  door,"  which  is  the  way  that  lawyers  do,  "and  write 
'  Back  at  seven '  upon  it."  Back  at  seven  I  wrote,  and  stuck  it 
on  our  outer  oak.  And  so  mistearus  was  Dcuceace  about  his  con- 
tinental tour  (to  all  except  me),  that  when  the  landriss  brought  him 
her  account  for  the  livst  month  (amountain,  at  the  very  least,  to 
£2,  10s.),  master  told  her  to  leave  it  till  Monday  morning,  when 
it  should  be  properly  settled.  It's  extrodny  how  ickonomical  a  man 
becomes,  when  he's  got  five  thousand  lbs.  in  his  pockit. 

Back  at  7  indeed  !  At  7  we  were  a-roalin  on  the  Dover 
Road,  in  the  Reglator  Coach — master  inside,  mc  out.  A  strange 
company  of  people  there  was,  too,  in  that  wehicle, — 3  sailors ;  an 
Italyin  with  his  music-box  and  munky ;  a  missionary,  going  to 
convert  tlie  heathens  in  France ;  2  oppra  girls  (they  call  'em  figure- 
aunts),  and  tlie  figure-aunts"  mothers  inside ;  4  Frenchmin,  with 
gingybred  caps  and  mustashes,  singing,  chattering,  and  jesticklating 
in  the  most  vonderful  vay.  Su(;h  conii)liments  as  passed  between  them 
and  the  figure-aunts  ;  such  a  munshin  of  biskits  and  sippin  of  brandy  ! 
such  "  0  mong  Jews,"  and  "  O  sacrrres,"  and  "  kill  fay  frwaws  !  " 
I  ditlu't  understand  their  languidge  at  that  time,  so  of  course  can't 
igsplain  much  of  their  conwersation  ;  but  it  pleased  me,  nevertheless, 
for  now  I  felt  that  I  was  reely  going  into  foring  parts  :  which,  ever 
sins  I  had  had  any  edication  at  all,  was  always  my  fondest  wisli. 
Heavin  bless  us  !  thought  I,  if  these  are  specimeens  of  all  Frenchmen, 
what  a  set  they  must  be.  The  pore  Italyin's  munky,  siitin  mojiin 
and  meluncolly  on  his  box,  was  not  half  so  ugly,  and  seamed  quite  as 
reasonabble. 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  271 

Well,  we  arrived  at  Dover — "  Ship  Hotel  " — weal  cutlets  half 
a  ginny,  glas  of  ale  a  shilling,  gins  of  neagush  half-a-crownd,  a 
hapnyworth  of  wax-lites  four  shillings,  and  so  on.  But  master 
paid  without  grumbling  ;  as  long  as  it  was  for  himself  he  never 
minded  the  expens  :  and  nex  day  we  embarked  in  the  packit  for 
Balong-sir-mare — which  means  in  French,  the  town  of  Balong 
sityouated  on  the  sea.  I  who  had  heard  of  foring  wonders,  expected 
this  to  be  the  fust  and  greatest :  phansy,  then,  my  disapintmcnt, 
when  we  got  there,  to  find  this  Balong  not  situated  on  the  sea,  but 
on  the  shoar. 

But  oh  !  the  gettiu  there  was  the  bisniss.  How  I  did  wish 
for  Pump  Court  agin,  as  we  were  tawsing  abowt  in  the  Channel ! 
Gentle  readei',  av  you  ever  been  on  the  otion  1 — "  The  sea,  the 
sea,  the  open  sea !  "  as  Barry  Cromwell  says.  As  soon  as  we 
entered  our  little  wessel,  and  I'd  looked  to  master's  luggitch  and 
mine  (mine  was  rapt  up  in  a  very  small  hankercher),  as  soon,  I 
say,  as  we  entered  our  little  wessel,  as  soon  as  I  saw  the  Avaives, 
black  and  frothy,  like  fresh-drawn  porter,  a-dashin  against  the  ribs 
of  our  galliant  bark,  the  keal  like  a  wedge,  splittin  the  billoes  in 
two,  the  sales  a-flaflin  in  the  hair,  the  standard  of  Hengland  floating 
at  the  mask-head,  the  steward  a-getting  ready  the  basins  and  things, 
the  capting  proudly  tredding  the  deck  and  giving  orders  to  the 
salers,  the  white  rox  of  Albany  and  the  bathin-masheens  disappearing 
in  the  distans — then,  then  I  felt,  for  the  first  time,  the  mite,  tlic 
madgisty  of  existence.  "  Yellowplush,  my  boy,"  said  I,  in  a  dialogue 
v/ith  myself,  "  your  life  is  now  about  to  commens— your  carear,  as 
a  man,  dates  fi-om  your  entrans  on  hoard  this  packit.  Be  wise,  be 
manly,  be  cautious,  forgit  the  follies  of  your  youth.  You  are  no 
longer  a  boy  now,  but  a  footman.  Throw  down  your  tops,  your 
marbles,  your  boyish  games — throw  off  your  childish  babbits  with 
your  inky  clerk's  jackit — throw  up  yom- " 

Here,  I  recklect,  I  was  obleeged  to  stopp.  A  fealin,  in  the 
fust  place  singlar,  in  the  next  place  painful,  and  at  last  compleatly 
overpowering,  had  come  upon  me  while  I  was  making  the  abiiff 
speach,  and  now  I  found  myself  in  a  sityouation  which  Dellixy  I'or 
Bids  me  to  describe.  Suffis  to  say,  that  now  I  dixcovered  what 
basins  was  made  for— that  for  many,  many  hours,  I  lay  in  a 
hagony  of  exostion,  dead  to  all  intense  and  porposes,  the  rain 
pattering  in  my  face,  the  salers  tramplink  over  my  body— the 
panes  of  purgatory  going  on  inside.  When  we'd  been  about  four 
hours  in  this  sityouation  (it  seam'd  to  me  four  ears),  the  stewanl 
comes  to  that  part  of  the  deck  where  we  servants  were  all  huddled 
up  together,  and  calls  out  "  Charles  !  " 


272     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.   J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

"Well,"  says  I,  gurgling  out  a  faint  "yes,  what's  the  matter?" 

"You're  wanted." 

"  Where  r' 

"  Your  master's  wery  ill,"  says  he,  with  a  grin. 

"  Master  be  hanged  !  "  says  I,  turning  round,  more  misrable 
than  ever.  I  woodn't  have  moved  that  day  for  twenty  thousand 
masters — no,  not  for  the  Empror  of  Russia  or  the  Pop  of  Room. 

Well,  to  cut  tills  sad  subjik  short,  many  and  many  a  voyitch 
have  I  sins  had  upon  what  Shakspm-  calls  the  "  wasty  dip,"  but 
never  such  a  retched  one  as  that  from  Dover  to  Balong,  in  the  year 
Anna  Domino  1818.  Steemcrs  were  scarce  in  those  days;  and 
our  journey  was  made  in  a  smack.  At  last,  when  I  was  in  a  stage 
of  despare  and  exostion,  as  reely  to  phansy  myself  at  Death's  doar, 
we  got  to  the  end  of  our  journey.  Late  in  the  evening  we  hailed 
the  Gaelic  slioars,  and  hankered  in  the  arbour  of  Balong-sir-mare. 

It  was  the  entrans  of  Parrowdice  to  me  and  master :  and  as  we 
entered  the  calm  water,  and  saw  the  comfrablile  lights  gleaming  in 
tlie  houses,  and  felt  the  roal  of  the  vessel  degreasing,  never  was  two 
mortiuls  glailder,  I  warrant,  than  we  were.  At  length  our  capting 
drew  up  at  the  key,  and  our  journey  was  down.  But  such  a  bustle 
and  clatter,  such  jabbering,  such  shrieking  and  swaring,  such  wollies 
of  oafs  and  axicrations  as  saluted  us  on  landing,  I  never  knew  !  We 
were  boarded,  in  the  fust  place,  by  custom-house  officers  in  cock- 
hats,  who  seased  our  lug.gitch,  and  called  for  our  passpots :  then  a 
crowd  of  inn-waiters  came  tumbling  and  screaming  on  deck — "Dis 
way,  sarc,"  cries  one  ;  "  Hutel  ^Mcurice,"  says  another ;  "  Hotel  de 
Baiig,"  screeches  another  chap — the  tower  of  Babyle  was  nothink  to 
it.  The  fust  thing  that  struck  me  on  landing  was  a  liig  fellow  with 
earrings,  who  very  nigh  knock  me  down,  in  wrenching  master's 
carpet-bag  out  of  my  hand,  as  I  was  carrying  it  to  the  hotell.  But 
Ave  got  to  it  safe  at  last ;  and,  for  the  fust  time  in  my  life,  I  slep  in 
a  foring  ccnuitry. 

I  shan't  describe  this  town  of  Balong,  which,  as  it  has  been 
visited  by  not  less  (on  an  avaridg)  than  two  milliums  of  English 
since  I  fust  saw  it  twenty  years  ago,  is  tolrabbly  well  known  already. 
It's  a  dingy,  mcllumcolly  place,  to  my  mind ;  the  only  thing  moving 
in  the  streets  is  the  gutter  which  runs  down  'em.  As  for  wooden 
shoes,  I  saw  few  of  'em ;  and  for  frogs,  upon  my  honour  I  never  sec 
a  single  Frenchman  swallc^v  one,  which  I  had  been  led  to  beleave 
was  their  reg'lar,  though  beastly,  custom.  One  thing  which  amazed 
me  was  the  singlar  name  which  they  give  to  this  town  of  Balong. 
It's  divided,  as  everyboddy  knows,  into  an  upper  town  (sitouate  on 
a  mounting,  and  surrounded  by  a  wall,  or  hulbjvar)  and  a  lower 
town,  which  is  on  the  level  of  the  sea.     Well,  will  it  be  believed 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  273 

that  tliey  call  the  up})cr  town  the  Hot  Veal,  and  the  otlier  the  Base 
Veal,  which  is  on  the  coiitry  genrally  good  in  Franee,  though  the 
beat,  it  must  be  contest,  is  exscrabble. 

It  was  in  the  Base  Veal  that  Deuceacc  took  his  ludgian,  at  the 
Hotel  de  Bang,  in  a  very  crooked  street  called  the  liue  del  Ascew ; 
and  if  lieM  lieen  the  Archbishop  of  Devonshire,  or  the  Duke  of 
Canterbury,  he  could  not  have  given  himself  greater  hairs,  I  can 
tell  you.  Nothink  was  too  fine  for  us  now ;  v.'c  had  a  sweet  of 
rooms  on  the  first-floor  which  belonged  to  the  prime  minister  of 
France  (at  least  the  landlord  said  they  were  the  lyremier's) ;  and 
the  Hon.  Algernon  Percy  Deuceace,  who  had  not  paid  his  landriss, 
and  came  to  Dover  in  a  coach,  seamed  now  to  think  that  goold  was 
too  vulgar  for  him,  and  a  carridge  and  six  would  break  doAvn  witli  a 
man  of  his  weight.  Shampang  flew  about  like  ginger-pop,  Ix^sides 
bordo,  clarit,  burgundy,  burgong,  and  other  wines,  and  all  the  delixcs 
of  the  Balong  kitchins.  We  stopped  a  fortnit  at  this  difll  place,  and 
did  nothing  from  morning  till  night  excep  walk  on  the .  beach,  and 
watch  the  ships  going  in  and  out  of  arber,  with  one  of  them  long 
sliding  opra-glasses,  which  they  call,  I  don't  know  why,  tallow-scoops. 
Our  amusements  for  the  fortnit  we  stopped  here  were  boath  numerous 
and  daliteful ;  nothink,  in  fact,  could  be  more  pich/mj,  as  they  say. 
In  the  morning  before  breakfast  we  boath  walked  on  the  Peer; 
master  in  a  blue  mareen  jackit,  and  me  in  a  slap-up  new  livry ; 
both  provided  with  long  sliding  opra-glasses,  called  as  I  said  (I  don't 
know  Y,  but  I  sujipose  it's  a  scientafick  term)  tallow-scoops.  AVith 
these  we  igsamined,  very  attentively,  the  otion,  the  seaweed,  the 
pebbles,  the  dead  cats,  the  fishwimmin,  and  the  waives  (like  little 
children  playing  at  leap-frog),  which  came  tumlding  over  1  another 
on  to  the  shoar.  It  seemed  to  me  as  if  they  were  scrambling  to  get 
there,  as  well  they  might,  being  sick  of  the  sea,  and  anxious  for  the 
blessid  peaceable  terry  fir  my. 

After  brexfast,  down  Ave  went  again  (that  is,  master  on  his  beat, 
and  me  on  mine, — for  my  place  in  this  foring  town  Avas  a  comjilete 
shinycurc),  and  putting  our  tally-scoops  again  in  our  eyes,  Ave 
egsamined  a  little  more  the  otion,  pebbils,  dead  cats,  and  so  on  ; 
and  this  lasted  till  dinner,  and  dinner  till  bed-time,  and  bed-time 
lasted  till  nex  day,  Avhen  came  brexfast,  and  dinner,  and  tally- 
scooping,  as  before.  This  is  the  Avay  Avith  all  people  of  this  town, 
of  which,  as  I've  heard  say,  there  is  ten  thousand  luippy  English, 
who  lead  this  plesnt  life  from  year's  end  to  year's  end. 

Besides  this,  there's  billiards  and  gambling  for  the  gentlemen, 
a  little  dancing  for  the  gals,  and  scandle  for  the  dowygers.  In  none 
of  these  amusements  did  Ave  partake.  We  were  a  little  too  good  to 
play  croAAai  pints  at  cards,  and  never  get  paid  when  we  won ;  or  to 


274    MEMOIRS    OF   MR.    C.    J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

go  dangling  after  the  portionless  gals,  or  amuse  ourselves  with  slops 
and  penny-wist  along  with  the  old  ladies.  No,  no ;  my  master  was 
a  man  of  fortn  now,  and  behayved  himself  as   sich.      If  ever  he 

condysended  to  go  into  the  public  room  of  the  Hotel  de  Bang the 

French  (doubtless  for  reasons  best  known  to  themselves)  call  this 
a  sallymanjy — he  swoar  more  and  lowder  than  any  one  there ;  he 
abyoused  the  waiters,  the  wittles,  the  wines.  With  his  glas  in 
his  i,  he  staired  at  everybody.  He  took  always  the  place"  before 
the  fire.  He  talked  about  "my  carridge,"  "my  currier,"  "my 
servant ;  ^'  and  he  did  wright.  I've  always  found  through  life,  that 
if  you  wish  to  be  respected  by  English  people,  you  must  be  insalent 
to  them,  especially  if  you  are  a  sprig  of  nobiliaty.  "We  lil-e  being 
insulted  by  noblemen, — it  shows  they're  familiar  with  us.  Law 
bless  us  !  I've  known  many  and  many  a  genhnn  about  town  who'd 
rather  be  kicked  by  a  lord  than  not  be  noticed  by  jdm  :  they've 
even  had  an  aw  of  me,  because  I  was  a  lord's  footman.  While  my 
master  was  hectoring  in  the  parlor,  at  Balong,  pretious  airs  I  gave 
myself  in  the  hitching,  I  can  tell  you  :  and  the  consequints  Avas, 
that  we  were  better  served,  and  moar  liked,  than  many  ])ipple  with 
twice  our  merit. 

Deuceace  liad  some  particklar  plans,  no  doubt,  which  kep  him 
so  long  at  Balong ;  and  it  clearly  Avas  his  wish  to  act  tlie  man  of 
fortune  there  for  a  little  time  before  he  tried  the  character  at  Paris, 
He  purchased  a  can-idge,  he  hired  a  currier,  he  rigged  me  in  a  fine 
new  livry  blazin  witli  lace,  and  he  past  tlirough  "the  Balong  bank 
a  thousand  pounds  of  the  money  he  had  Avon  from  Dawkins^  to  his 
credit  at  a  Paris  house ;  showing  the  Balong  bankers,  at  the  same 
time,  that  he'd  plenty  moar  in  his  potfolie.  This  was  killin  two 
birds  with  one  stone;  the  bankers'  clerks  spread  the  nuse  over 
the  town,  and  in  a  day  after  master  had  paid  the  money  every 
old  dowyger  in  Balong  had  looked  out  the  Crabs'  family  podigree 
in  the  Poeridge,  and  was  (juite  intimate  with  tlie  Deuceace  name 
and  estates.  If  Sattu  himself  Averc  a  lord,  I  do  beleave  there's 
many  vurtuous  English  mothers  would  be  glad  to  have  him  for  a 
son-in-law. 

Now,  thougli  my  master  had  thought  fitt  to  leave  town  without 
excommunicating  with  his  father  on  the  subject  of  his  intended 
continental  tripe,  as  soon  as  he  was  settled  at  Balong  he  roat  my 
Lord  Crabbs  a  letter,  of  which  I  happen  to  have  a  copy.  It  ran 
thus  : — 

"Boulogne:  January  2^. 
"  My  dear  Father, — I  have  long,  in  the  course  of  my  legal 
studies,  found  the  necessity  of  a  knowledge  of  French,  in  which 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  275 

language  all  the  early  history  of  our  profession  is  written,  and  have 
determined  to  take  a  little  relaxation  from  chamber  reading,  which 
has  seriously  injured  niy  health.  If  my  modest  finances  can  bear 
a  two  months'  journey,  and  a  residence  at  Paris,  I  proi)ose  to 
remain  there  that  period. 

"  Will  you  have  the  kindness  to  send  me  a  letter  of  introduction 
to  Lord  Bobtail,  our  Ambassador  1  My  name  and  your  old  fri(>nd- 
ship  with  him  I  know  would  secure  me  a  reception  at  his  liuuse ; 
but  a  pressing  letter  from  yourself  would  at  once  be  more  courteous, 
and  more  eff"ectual. 

"  May  I  also  ask  you  for  my  last  quarter's  salary  1  I  ana  not 
an  expensive  man,  my  dear  father,  as  you  know ;  but  we  are  no 
chameleons,  and  fifty  pounds  (with  my  little  earnings  in  my  ^jro- 
fession)  would  vastly  add  to  the  acjremens  of  my  Continental 
excursion. 

"  Present  my  love  to  all  my  brothers  and  sisters.  Ah  !  how  I 
wish  the  hard  i)orti(3n  of  a  younger  son  had  not  been  mine,  and  that 
I  could  live  without  the  dire  necessity  for  labour,  hajjpy  among  the 
rural  scenes  of  my  childhood,  and  in  the  society  of  my  dear  sisters 
and  you !  Heaven  bless  you,  dearest  father,  and  all  those  beloved 
ones  now  dwelling  under  the  dear  old  roof  at  Sizes. — Ever  your 
aff"ectionate  son  Algernon. 

"  The  Right  Hon.  the  Earl  of  Crabs,  d-c. 
"Sizes  Court,  Bucks." 

To  this  affeckshnat  letter  his  Lordship  replied,  by  return  of 
poast,  as  folios  : — 

"  My  DExiR  Algernon,— Your  letter  came  safe  to  hand,  and  I 
enclose  you  the  letter  for  Lord  Bobtail  as  you  desire.  He  is  a  kind 
man,  and  has  one  of  the  best  cooks  in  Europe. 

"We  were  all  charmed  with  your  warm  remembrances  of  us,  not 
having  seen  you  for  seven  years.  We  cannot  but  be  pleased  at  the 
family  affection  Avliich,  in  spite  of  time  and  absence,  still  clings  so 
fondly  to  home.  It  is  a  sad  sellish  world,  and  very  few  who  have 
entered  it  can  afford  to  keep  those  fresh  feelings  which  you  have, 
my  dear  son, 

"  May  you  long  retain  them,  is  a  fond  father's  earnest  prayer. 
Be  sure,  dear  Algernon,  that  they  Avill  be  through  life  your  greatest 
comfort,  as  well  as  your  best  worldly  ally ;  consoling  you  in  mis- 
fortune, cheering  you  in  depression,  aiding  and  inspiring  you  to 
exertion  and  success. 

"  I  am  sorry,  truly  sony,  that  my  account  at  Coutts's  is  so  low, 
just  now,  as  to  render  a  payment  of  your  allowance  for  tlie  present 


276     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.    C.    J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

impossible.  I  see  by  my  book  that  I  owe  you  now  nine  quarters, 
or  ^450.  Depend  on  it,  my  dear  boy,  that  they  shall  be  faithfully 
paid  over  to  you  on  the  first  opportunity. 

"By  the  way,  I  have  enclosed  some  extracts  from  the  ne-ws- 
papers,  which  may  interest  you :  and  have  received  a  very  strange 
letter  from  a  Mr.  Blewitt,  about  a  play  transaction,  which,  I  sup- 
pose, is  the  case  alluded  to  in  these  prints.  He  says  you  won 
£4700  from  one  Dawkins :  that  the  lad  paid  it ;  that  he,'Blewitt, 
was  to  go  what  he  calls  'snacks'  in  the  winning;  but  that  you 
refused  to  share  the  booty.  How  can  you,  my  dear  boy,  quarrel 
with  these  vulgar  people,  or  lay  yourself  in  any  way  open  to  their 
attacks  ?  I  have  played  myself  a  good  deal,  and  there  is  no  man 
living  who  can  accuse  me  of  a  doubtful  act.  You  should  either 
have  shot  this  Blewitt  or  jwid  him.  Now,  as  the  matter  stands,  it 
is  too  late  to  do  the  former ;  and,  perhaiis,  it  would  be  Quixotic  to 
perform  the  latter.  My  dearest  boy !  recollect  through  life  that 
you  never  can  afford  to  be  dishonest  ivith  a  rogue.  Four  thousand 
seven  hundred  pounds  was  a  great  coujy,  to  be  sure. 

"  As  you  are  now  in  such  high  feather,  can  you,  dearest  Alger- 
non !  lend  me  five  hvmdred  pounds  1  Upon  my  soul  and  honour,  I 
will  repay  you.  Your  brothers  and  sisters  send  you  their  love.  I 
need  not  add,  that  you  have  always  the  blessings  of  your  affectionate 
father,  Crabs. 

"P..S'. — Make  it  500,  and  I  will  give  you  my  note-of-hand  for 
a  thousand." 

•  •••••• 

I  needn't  say  that  this  did  not  quite  enter  into  Deuceace's 
eyedears.  Lend  his  father  500  pound,  indeed  !  He'd  as  soon  have 
lent  him  a  box  on  the  year !  In  the  fust  place,  he  hadn  seen  old 
Crabs  for  seven  years,  as  that  nobleman  remarked  in  his  epistol ; 
in  the  secknd  he  hated  him,  and  they  hated  each  other ;  and  nex, 
if  master  had  loved  his  father  ever  so  much,  he  loved  somebody 
else  better — his  father's  son,  namely :  and  sooner  than  deprive  that 
exlcnt  young  man  of  a  penny,  he'd  have  scan  all  the  fathers  in  the 
world  hangin  at  Ncwgat,  and  all  the  "  beloved  ones,"  as  he  called 
his  sisters,  the  Lady  Deuccacisses,  so  many  convix  at  Bottomy  Bay. 

The  newspaper  parrografs  showed  that,  how^ever  secret  ive  wished 
to  keep  the  i)lny  transaction,  the  jKiblic  knew  it  now  full  well. 
Blewitt,  as  I  ibund  after,  was  the  author  of  the  libels  which  appeared 
right  and  left : — 

"Gambling  ix  High  Life — The  Honourable  Mr.  De-c — ce 
^gain ! — This  celebrated  whist-player  has   turned  his  accomplish 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  277 

ments  to  some  profit.  On  Friday,  the  16tli  January,  he  -won  five 
thousand  pounds  from  a  very  young  gentleman,  Th-m-s  Sm-th 
D-wk-ns,  Esq.,  and  lost  two  thousand  five  hundred  to  R.  Bl-w-tt, 
Esq.,  of  the  T-mple.  Mr.  D.  very  honourably  paid  the  sum  lost 
by  him  to  the  honourable  whist-player,  but  we  have  not  heard  that, 
before  his  sudden  trip  to  Paris,  Mr.  D-uc — ce  paid  his  losings  to 
Mr.  Bl-w-tt." 

Nex  came  a  "  Notice  to  Corryspondents  "  : — 

"  Fair  Play  asks  us,  if  we  know  of  the  gambling  doings  of  the 
notorious  Deuceace  1  We  answer,  We  do  ;  and,  in  our  very  next 
Number,  propose  to  make  some  of  them  public," 

They  didn't  appear,  however ;  but,  on  the  contry,  the  very  same 
newspeper,  which  had  been  before  so  abusiff"  of  Deuceace,  was  now 
loud  in  his  i^raise.     It  said  : — 

"  A  paragraph  was  inadvertently  admitted  into  our  paper  of  last 
week,  most  unjustly  assailing  the  character  of  a  gentleman  of  liigh 
birth  and  talents,  the  son  of  the  exemplary  E-rl  of  Cr-lis.  AYe 
repel,  "with  scorn  and  indignation,  the  dastardly  falsehoods  of  the 
malignant  slanderer  who  vilified  Mr.  De-ce-ce,  and  beg  to  oft'er 
that  gentleman  the  only  reparation  in  our  power  for  having  thus 
tampered  with  his  unsullied  name.  AVe  disbelieve  the  ruffian  and 
his  story,  and  most  sincerely  regTCt  that  such  a  tale,  or  such  a 
uTtter,  should  ever  have  been  brought  forward  to  the  readers  of 
this  paper." 

This  was  satisfactory,  and  no  mistake ;  and  much  pleased  we 
were  at  the  denial  of  this  conshentious  editor.  So  much  pleased 
that  master  sent  him  a  ten-pound  noat,  and  his  complymints. 
He'd  sent  another  to  the  same  address,  he/ore  this  parrowgralf 
was  printed ;  why,  I  can't  think ;  for  I  woodn't  suppose  anything 
musnary  in  a  littery  man. 

AVeil,  after  this  bisniss  Avas  concluded,  the  currier  hired,  the 
carridge  smartened  a  little,  and  me  set  up  in  my  new  livries,  we 
bade  ojew  to  Bulong  in  the  grandest  state  posbill.  AVhat  a  figure 
we  cut !  and,  my  i,  what  a  figger  the  postillion  cut !  A  cock-hat,  a 
jackit  made  out  of  a  cow's  skin  (it  was  in  cold  weather),  a  pig-tale 
about  3  fit  in  length,  and  a  pair  of  boots  !  Oh,  sich  a  pare  !  ^  A 
bishop  might  almost  have  preached  out  of  one,  or  a  modrat-sized 
fiimly  slep  in  it.  Me  and  Mr.  Schwigshhnaps,  the  currier,  sate 
behind  in  the  nunljill ;  master  aloan  in  the  inside,  as  grand  as  a 
23 


278     MEMOIES    OF    MR.    C.    J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

Turk,  and  rapt  up  in  his  fine  fir-cloak.  Off  we  sett,  bowing  gracefly 
to  the  crowd ;  the  harniss-bells  jinglin,  the  great  white  hosses 
snortin,  kickin,  and  squeehn,  and  the  postihum  crackin  his  wip,  as 
loud  as  if  he'd  been  dri-s^in  her  majesty  the  quean. 

Well,  I  sjian't  describe  our  voyitch.  We  passed  sefral  sitties, 
willitches,  and  mctrappolishes ;  sleeping  the  fust  night  at  Amiens, 
witch,  as  every boddy  knows,  is  famous  ever  since  the  year  1802  for 
what's  called  the  Pease  of  Amiens.  We  had  some,  very  good,  done 
with  sugar  and  bro^\^l  sos,  in  the  Amiens  way.  But  after  all  the 
boasting  about  them,  I  think  I  like  our  marrowphats  better. 

Speaking  of  wedgytables,  another  singler  axdent  hajipened  here 
concarning  them.  Master,  who  was  brexfasting  before  going  away, 
told  me  to  go  and  get  him  his  fur  travling-shoes.  I  went  and  toald 
the  waiter  of  the  imi,  who  stared,  grinned  (as  these  chaps  always 
do),  said  "7)0?ir/"  (which  means,  very  well),  and  presently  came 
back. 

Fm  blest  "if  he  didnH  bring  master  a  2^l<^t^  of  cnbbitch ! 
Would  you  bleave  it,  that  now,  in  the  nineteenth  sentry,  when  they 
say  there's  schoolmasters  abroad,  these  stewpid  French  jackasses 
are  so  extonishingly  ignorant  as  to  call  a  c.abbidge  a  shoo  !  Never, 
never  let  it  be  said,  after  this,  that  these  beuiglited,  souperstitious, 
misrabble  saiiidr/es,  are  equill,  in  any  respex,  to  the  great  Brittish 
peo]ile.  The  moor  I  tra-vvle,  the  moor  I  see  of  the  world,  and 
other  natiums,  I  am  jiroud  of  my  own,  and  despise  and  deplore 
the  rctchid  ignorance  of  the  rest  of  Youiiip. 

•  ••«••• 

My  remarks  on  Parris  you  shall  have  by  an  early  opportunity. 
Me  and  Deuceace  played  some  curious  pranx  there,  I  can  tell  you. 


MR.    DEUCEACE    AT    PARIS 
CHAPTER   I 

THE   Tiro  BUNDLES  OF  HAY 

T  lEUTENANT-GENERAL  SIR  GEORGE  GRIFFIN,  K.C.B., 
I  was  about  seventy-five  years  old  when  he  left  this  life,  and 
'-^  the  East  Ingine  army,  of  which  he  was  a  distinguished  orny- 
ment.  Sir  Geoi-ge's  first  appearance  in  Injar  was  in  the  character 
of  a  cabbingboy  to  a  vessel ;  from  Avhich  he  rose  to  be  clerk  to  the 
owners  at  Calcutta,  from  Avliich  he  became  all  of  a  sudden  a  ca})ting 
in  the  Company's  service ;  and  so  rose  and  rose,  until  he  rose  to  be 
a  leftenant-general,  when  he  stopped  rising  altogetlier — hopping  the 
twig  of  this  life,  as  drummers,  generals,  dustmen,  and  emperors 
must  do. 

Sir  George  did  not  leave  any  mal  licir  to  perpetuate  the  name  of 
Grittin.  A  widow  of  about  twenty-seven,  and  a  daughter  avaritching 
twenty-tliree,  Avas  left  behind  to  deploar  his  loss,  and  share  Ids 
proppaty.  On  old  Sir  George's  dcth,  his  interesting  widdo  and  orfan, 
who  had  both  been  with  him  in  Injer,  returned  home — tried  London 
for  a  few  months,  did  not  like  it,  and  resolved  on  a  trii»  Ijj  Paris; 
where  very  small  London  peijple  liecome  very  great  ones,  if  they've 
money,  as  these  Grilfinses  had.  The  intelligent  reader  need  not  be 
told  that  Miss  Grittin  was  not  tlie  daughter  of  Lady  Griffin ;  for 
though  marritches  are  made  tolrabbly  early  in  Injer,  people  are  not 
quite  so  precoashoos  as  all  that :  the  foct  is,  Lady  G.  was  Sir  George's 
second  wife.  I  need  scarcely  add,  that  IMiss  Matilda  Grittin  wos  the 
offspring  of  his  fust  marritcli. 

Miss  Leonora  Ivicki^:ey,  a  ansum  lively  Islington  gal,  taken  out 
to  Calcutta,  and,  amongst  his  other  goods,  very  comfortably  disjjosed 
of  by  her  uncle,  Capting  Kicksey,  was  one-and-twenty  when  she 
married  Sir  George  at  seventy-one;  and  the  13  Miss  Kickseys,  nine 
of  whom  kep  a  school  at  Islington  (tiie  other  4  being  married  vari- 
ously in  the  City),  Avere  not  a  little  cnvius  of  my  Lady's  luck,  and 
not  a  little  proud  of  their  relationship  to  her.  One  of  'em,  Miss 
Jemima  Kicksey,  the  oldest,  and  by  no  means  the  least  ugly  of  the 


28o     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.    C.    J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

sett,  was  staying  with  her  Ladyship,  and  gev  me  all  the  partecklars. 
Of  the  rest  of  the  famly,  being  of  a  lo  sort,  I  in  course  no  nothink ; 
my  acquaintance,  thank  my  stars,  don't  lie  among  them,  or  the  likes 
of  them. 

Well,  this  Miss  Jemima  lived  with  her  younger  and  more  fortnat 
sister,  in  the  qualaty  of  companion,  or  toddy.  Poar  thing !  I'd  a 
soon  be  a  gaily  slave,  as  lead  the  life  she  did  I  Everybody  in  the 
house  despised  her ;  her  Ladyship  insulted  her ;  the  very  kitching 
gals  scorned  and  flouted  lier.  Slic  roat  the  notes,  she  kop  the  bills, 
slie  made  tlie  tea,  she  whipped  the  chocklate,  she  cleaned  the  canary 
birds,  and  gev  out  the  linning  for  the  wa.sh.  She  was  my  Lady's 
Avnlking  pocket,  or  rettyculc  ;  and  fetched  and  carried  her  handker- 
clier,  or  her  smell-bottle,  like  a  well-bred  spaniel.  All  night,  at  her 
La(lyshii)'s  swarries,  she  thumi)cd  kidrills  (nobody  ever  thought  of 
asking  her  to  dance  ! ) ;  when  Miss  Griffing  sung,  she  played  the  piano, 
and  was  scolded  because  the  singer  was  out  of  tune ;  abomnianating 
dogs,  slie  never  drov^e  out  without  her  Ladyship's  puddle  in  her  lap ; 
and,  reglarly  imwell  in  a  carriage,  she  never  got  anything  but  the  back 
seat.  Poar  Jemima  !  I  can  see  her  now  in  my  Lady's  sechid-best  old 
clothes  (the  ladies'-maids  always  got  the  prime  leavings)  :  aliloc  sattn 
gown,  crumpled,  blotched,  and  greiisy ;  a  pair  of  white  sattn  shoes, 
of  the  colour  of  Injer  rubber ;  a  faded  yellow  velvet  hat,  with  a 
wreath  of  hartifisld  flowers  run  to  sead,  and  a  bird  of  Parrowdice 
perched  on  the  top  of  it,  mclumcolly  and  moulting,  with  only  a  couple 
of  feathers  left  in  his  mifortunate  tail. 

Besides  this  ornyment  to  their  saloon.  Lady  and  Miss  Griffin 
kept  a  number  of  other  servants  in  the  kitching :  2  ladies'-niaids , 
2  footmin,  six  feet  high  each,  crimson  coats,  goold  knots,  and  white 
cassymcjfr  pantyloons ;  a  coachmin  to  match ;  a  page :  and  a 
Shassure,  a  kind  of  servant  only  knowm  among  forriners,  and  who 
looks  more  like  a  major-general  than  any  other  mortial,  wearing  a 
cock-hat,  a  unicoru  covered  with  silver  lace,  mustashos,  eplets,  and 
a  sword  by  his  side.  All  these  to  wait  upon  two  ladies ;  not 
comiting  a  host  of  the  fair  sex,  such  as  cooks,  scullion,  liousekcepers, 
and  so  forth. 

My  Lady  Grithu's  lodging  was  at  forty  pounds  a  week,  in  a 
grand  sweet  of  rooms  in  the  Plas  Vandome  at  Paris.  And,  having 
thus  described  tlieir  house,  and  their  servants'  hall,  I  may  give  a 
few  words  of  description  concerning  the  ladies  themselves. 

In  the  fust  place,  and  in  coarse,  they  hated  each  otlier.  My 
Lady  was  twenty-seven — a  widdo  of  two  years — f;it,  fair,  and  rosy. 
A  slow,  quiet,  cold-looking  woman,  as  those  fair-haired  gals  generally 
are,  it  seemed  dirticult  to  rouse  her  either  into  likes  or  dislikes  ;  to 
the  former,  at  least.     She  never  loved  anybody  but  one,  and  that 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  281 

was  herself.  She  hated,  in  her  calm  quiet  way,  almost  every  one 
else  who  came  near  her — every  one,  from  her  neighbour  the  duke, 
who  had  slighted  her  at  dinner,  down  to  John  the  footman,  wlio 
had  torn  a  hole  in  her  train.  I  think  this  woman's  heart  was  like 
one  of  them  lithograffic  stones,  you  can't  ruh  out  anything  when 
once  it's  drawn  or  wrote  on  it ;  nor  could  you  out  of  her  Ladyship's 
stone — heart,  I  mean — in  the  shape  of  an  affront,  a  slight,  or  real 
or  i^hansied  injury.  She  boar  an  exlent  irreprotchable  character, 
against  which  the  tongue  of  scandal  never  wagged.  She  was  allowed 
to  be  the  best  wife  posbill — and  so  she  Avas ;  but  she  killed  her  old 
husband  in  two  years,  as  dead  as  ever  Mi;.  Thurtell  killed  Mr. 
William  Weare.  She  never  got  into  a  passion,  not  she — she  never 
said  a  rude  word  ;  but  she'd  a  genius — a  genius  which  many  women 
have — of  making  a  hell  of  a  house,  and  tort'ring  the  poor  creatures 
of  her  family,  until  they  were  wellnigh  drove  mad. 

Miss  Matilda  Griffin  was  a  good  deal  uglier,  and  about  as 
amiable  as  her  mother-in-law.  She  Avas  crooked,  and  squinted ;  my 
Lady,  to  do  her  justice,  Avas  straight,  and  looked  the  same  Avay 
Avith  her  i's.  She  Avas  dark,  and  my  Lady  Avas  fair — sentimental, 
as  her  Ladyship  AA'as  cold.  My  Lady  Avas  never  in  a  passion — Miss 
Matilda  ahvays ;  and  aAvfille  Avere  the  scenes  Avhich  used  to  pass 
betAveen  these  2  A\-omen,  and  the  Avickid  wickid  quarls  Avhich  took 
place.  Why  did  they  live  together  1  There  Avas  the  niistry.  Not 
related,  and  hating  each  other  like  pison,  it  would  surely  have  been 
easier  to  remain  seprat,  and  so  have  detested  each  other  at  a  distans. 

As  for  the  fortune  Avhicli  old  Sir  George  had  left,  that,  it  Avas 
clear,  was  very  considrabble — 300  thousand  lb.  at  the  least,  as  I 
have  heard  say.  But  nobody  kncAv  hoAv  it  Avas  disposed  of  Some 
said  that  her  Ladyship  Avas  sole  mistriss  of  it,  others  that  it  Avas 
divided,  others  that  slie  had  only  a  life  inkum,  and  that  the  money 
was  all  to  go  (as  Avas  natral)  to  Miss  Matilda.  These  are  subjix 
which  are  not  praps  very  interesting  to  the  British  public,  but 
were  mighty  important  to  my  master,  the  Honrablc  Algernon  Percy 
Deuceace,  esquire,  barrister-at-laA\^,  etsettler,  etsettler. 

For  I've  forgot  to  hiform  you  that  my  master  Avas  very  intimat 
in  this  house;  and  that  Ave  Avere  now  comfortably  settled  at  the 
Hotel  MirabcAv  (pronounced  Marobo  in  French),  in  the  Rcav  dclly 
Pay,  at  Paris.  We  had  our  cab,  and  tAvo  riding-horses;  our 
banker's  book,  and  a  thousand  pound  for  a  balantz  at  Lafitt's ;  our 
club  at  the  corner  of  the  ReAV  Gramong ;  our  share  in  a  box  at  the 
oppras;  our  apartments,  spacious  and  elygant ;  our  swarnes  at 
Court ;  our  dinners  at  his  Excellency  Lord  Bobtail's  and  elsewhere. 
Thanks  to  poar  Dawkins's  five  thousand  pound,  Ave  Avere  as  complete 
gentlemen  as  any  in  Paris. 


282     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.    C.    J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

Now  my  master,  like  a  wise  man  as  he  was,  seaiug  himself  at 
the  head  of  a  smart  sum  of  money,  and  in  a  country  where  his 
debts  could  not  bother  him,  determined  to  give  up  for  the  present 
everythink  like  gambling — at  least,  high  play ;  as  for  losing  or 
winning  a  ralow  of  Xapoleums  at  whist  or  ecarty,  it  did  not  matter  : 
it  looks  like  money  to  do  such  things  and  gives  a  kind  of  respec- 
tabilaty.  "  But  as  for  play,  he  wouldn't — oh  no  !  not  for  worlds  ! 
— do  such  a  thing."  He  had  played,  like  other  young  men  of 
fashn,  and  won  and  lost  [ohl  fox  !  he  didn't  say  he  had  pai(l\  ;  but 
he  had  given  up  the  amusement,  and  was  now  determined,  he  said, 
to  live  on  his  inkunif  The  fact  is,  my  master  was  doing  his  very 
best  to  act  the  respectable  man  :  and  a  very  good  game  it  is,  too ; 
but  it  requires  a  precious  great  roag  to  play  it. 

He  made  his  appearans  reglar  at  church — mo  carrying  a  hand- 
some large  black  marocky  Prayer-book  and  Bible,  with  the  ])salms 
and  lessons  marked  out  with  red  ribbings ;  and  you'd  have  tliought, 
as  I  graivly  laid  the  volloms  down  before  him,  and  as  he  berried 
his  head  in  his  nicely  brushed  hat,  before  service  began,  that  such  a 
jiious,  proper,  morl,  young  nobleman  was  not  to  be  found  in  the  whole 
of  the  jioeridge.  It  was  a  comfort  to  look  at  him.  Efry  old  tabby 
and  dowj'ger  at  my  Lord  Bobtail's  turned  up  the  wights  of  their  i's 
when  they  spoke  of  him,  and  vowed  they  had  never  seen  such  a 
dear,  daliteful,  exlent  young  man.  What  a  good  son  he  must  be, 
they  said ;  and  oh,  what  a  good  son-in-law  !  He  had  the  pick  of 
all  the  English  gals  at  Paris  before  we  had  been  there  3  months. 
But,  unfortmiately,  most  of  them  wore  poar  ;  and  love  and  a  cottidgo 
was  not  quite  in  ma.ster's  way  of  thinking. 

Well,  about  this  time  my  Lady  Griffin  and  Jliss  G.  made  their 
appearants  at  Parris,  and  master,  who  was  up  to  snough,  very  soon 
changed  his  noat.  He  sate  near  them  at  chappie,  and  sung  hims 
with  my  Lady :  he  danced  with  'em  at  the  embassy  balls  ;  he  road 
with  them  in  the  Boy  de  Balong  and  tlie  Shaudeleasics  (which  is 
the  French  High  Park) ;  he  roat  potry  in  ]\Iiss  Griffin's  halbim,  and 
sang  jewets  along  with  her  and  Lady  Griffin  ;  he  brought  sweetmeats 
for  the  puddle-dog ;  he  gave  money  to  the  footmin,  kissis  and  gloves 
to  the  sniggering  ladies'-maids ;  he  was  sivvle  even  to  poar  Miss 
Kicksey ;  there  wasn't  a  single  soal  at  the  Griffinses  that  didn't 
adoar  this  good  young  man. 

The  ladies,  if  they  hated  befoar,  you  may  be  sure  detested  each 
other  now  wuss  than  ever.  There  had  been  always  a  jallowsy 
between  them  :  miss  jellows  of  her  mother-in-law's  bewty ;  madam 
of  miss's  espree :  miss  taunting  my  Lady  about  the  school  at 
Islington,  and  my  Lady  snearing  at  miss  for  her  squint  and  her 
crookid  back.     And  now  came  a  stronger  caws.     They  both  fell  in 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  283 

love  with  Mr.  Deuceaee — my  Lady,  tliat  is  to  say,  as  much  as  she 
could,  with  her  cohl  selfish  temper.  She  liked  Deuceaee,  who 
amused  her  and  made  her  lafF.  She  liked  his  manners,  his  riding, 
and  his  good  loox  ;  and  being  :i]iervinciv  herself  had  a  dubble  respect 
for  real  aristocratick  flesh  and  blood.  Miss's  love,  on  the  contry, 
was  all  flams  and  fury.  SheVl  always  been  at  this  work  from  the 
time  she  had  been  at  school,  where  she  very  nigh  run  away  with  a 
Frentch  master ;  next  with  a  footman  (which  I  may  say,  in  conft- 
dence,  is  by  no  means  unnatral  or  unusyouall,  as  I  could  shoiv  if  I 
liked) ',  and  so  had  been  going  on  sins  fifteen.  She  reglarly  flung 
herself  at  Deuceace's  head — such  sighing,  crying,  and  ogling,  I  never 
see.  Often  was  I  ready  to  bust  out  laffin,  as  I  br(jught  master 
skoars  of  rose-coloured  hillydoos,  folded  up  like  cockhats,  and  smellin 
like  barber's  shops,  which  this  very  tender  young  lady  used  to 
address  to  him.  Now,  though  master  was  a  scoundrill  and  no 
mistake,  he  was  a  gentlemin,  and  a  man  of  good  breading ;  and  miss 
came  a  little  too  strong  (pardon  the  wulgarity  of  the  xpression) 
with  her  hardor  and  attachmint,  for  one  of  his  taste.  Besides*,  slie 
had  a  crookid  spine,  and  a  squint ;  so  that  (supposing  their  tortus 
tolrabbly  equal)  Deuceaee  reely  preferred  the  mother-in-law. 

Now,  tlien,  it  was  his  bisuess  to  find  out  which  had  the  most 
money.  With  an  English  famly  this  would  have  been  easy  :  a  look 
at  a  will  at  Doctor  Conimons'es  would  settle  the  matter  at  once. 
But  this  India  naybob's  will  was  at  Calcutty,  or  some  outlandish 
place  ;  and  there  was  no  getting  sight  of  a  coppy  of  it.  I  will  do 
Mr.  Algernon  Deuceaee  the  justass  to  say,  that  he  was  so  little 
musnary  in  his  love  for  Lady  Grifiin,  that  he  would  have  married 
her  gladly,  even  if  she  had  ten  thousand  pounds  less  than  Miss 
Matilda.  In  the  meantime,  his  plan  was  to  keep  'em  both  in  play, 
mitil  he  could  strike  the  best  fish  of  the  two — not  a  difficult  matter 
for  a  man  of  his  genus  :  besides,  Miss  was  hooked  for  certain. 


CHAPTER   II 
"HONOUR    THY   FATHER" 

1SAID  that  my  master  was  adoared  by  every  person  in  my  Lady 
Griffin's  establishmint.  I  sliould  have  said  by  every  person 
excep  one, — a  young  French  gnlmn,  that  is,  who,  before  our  ap- 
pcarants,  had  been  mighty  partikhxr  witli  my  Lady,  ockupying  by  her 
side  cxackly  the  same  pasition  which  tlie  Honrable  Mr.  Deuceace  now 
held.  It  was  bewtiffle  and  heachfying  to  see  how  coolly  that  young 
nobleman  kicked  the  poar  Shevalliay  de  I'Orge  out  of  his  shoes,  and 
how  gracefully  he  himself  stept  into  'em.  Munseer  de  TOrge  was  a 
smart  young  French  jcntleman,  of  about  my  master's  age  and  good 
looks,  but  not  possest  of  half  my  master's  impidince.  Not  that 
that  quallaty  is  uncommon  in  France ;  but  few,  very  few,  had  it  to 
such  a  degree  as  my  exlent  employer,  ]\Ir.  Deuceace.  Besides  De 
rOrge  was  reglarly  and  reely  in  love  with  Lady  Griffin,  and  master 
only  pretending :  he  had,  of  coars,  an  advantitch,  which  the  poor 
Frentchman  never  could  git.  He  was  all  smiles  and  gaty,  Avhile 
Delorgc  was  ockward  and  melumcolly.  My  master  had  said  twenty 
pretty  things  to  Lady  Griffin,  befor  the  Shevalier  had  finished 
smoothing  his  hat,  staring  at  her,  and  sighing  fit  to  bust  his  weskit. 
0  luv,  luv  !  This  isn't  the  way  to  win  a  woman,  or  my  name's  not 
Fitzroy  Yellowplush  !  Myself,  Avhen  I  begun  my  carear  among  the 
fair  six,  I  was  always  sighing  and  moping,  like  this  poar  Frenchman. 
What  was  the  consquints  1  The  foar  fust  women  I  adoared  lafft  at 
mo,  and  left  me  for  something  more  lively.  With  tlic  rest  I  have 
eiloptcd  a  diftVcnt  game,  and  with  tolerable  suxess,  I  can  tell  you. 
But  this  is  eggatism,  which  I  aboar. 

Well,  the  long  and  the  short  of  it  is,  that  Munseer  Ferdinand 
Hyppolite  Xavier  Stanislas,  Shevalier  de  I'Orge,  was  reglar  cut  out 
by  Munseer  Algenion  Percy  Deuceace,  Exquire.  Poar  Ferdinand 
did  not  leave  the  house — he  hadn't  the  heart  to  do  that — nor  had 
my  Lady  the  desire  to  dismiss  him.  He  was  useflc  in  a  thousand 
different  ways,  gitting  oppra-boxes,  and  invitations  to  French 
swarries,  bying  gloves,  and  0  de  Colong,  writing  French  noats,  and 
such  like.  Always  let  me  recommend  an  English  fiimly,  going  to 
Paris,  to  have  at  least  one  yoimg  man  of  the  sort  about  thera 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  285 

Never  mind  how  old  your  Ladyship  is,  he  will  make  love  to  you ; 
never  mind  what  crrints  you  send  hnn  upon,  he'll  trot  oft'  and  do 
them.  Besides,  he's  always  cpiite  and  well-dresst,  and  never  drinx 
moar  than  a  pint  of  wine  at  dinner,  which  (as  I  say)  is  a  pint  to 
consider.  Such  a  conveniants  of  a  man  was  Munseer  de  TOrge — 
the  greatest  use  and  comfort  to  my  Lady  posbill ;  if  it  was  but  to 
latt'  at  his  bad  j^ronunciatium  of  English,  it  was  somethink  amusink  : 
the  fun  was  to  i^it  him  against  poar  Miss  Kicksey,  she  speakif 
French,  and  he  our  naytif  British  tong. 

My  master,  to  do  him  justace,  Avas  perfickly  sivvle  to  this  jioar 
young  Frenchman ;  and  having  kicked  him  oiit  of  the  place  which 
he  occupied,  sertingly  treated  his  ilillen  anymy  with  every  respect 
and  consideration.  Poar  modist  down-hearted  little  Ferdinand 
adoared  my  Lady  as  a  goddice  !  and  so  lie  was  very  polite,  likewise, 
to  my  master — never  venturing  once  to  be  jellows  of  liim,  or  to 
question  my  Lady  Griffin's  right  to  change  her  lover,  if  she  choase 
to  do  so. 

Thus,  then,  matters  stood ;  master  had  tvfo  strinx  to  his  bo, 
and  might  take  either  the  widdo  or  the  orfn,  as  he  preferred  :  com 
hong  hvee  somhlan,  as  the  Frentch  say.  His  only  pint  was  to  dis- 
cover how  the  money  was  disposed  oft',  which  evidently  belonged 
to  one  or  other,  or  boath.  At  any  rate  he  was  sure  of  one ;  as  sure 
as  any  mortal  man  can  be  in  this  sublimary  spear,  where  nothink  is 
suttin  except  unsertnty. 

•  •••«•• 

A  very  unixpected  insident  here  took  place,  which  in  a  good  deal 
changed  my  master's  calkylations. 

One  night,  after  conducting  the  two  ladies  to  the  oppra,  after 
suppink  of  white  soop,  sammy-deperdrow,  and  shampang  glassy 
(which  means,  eyced),  at  their  house  in  the  Plas  Vandom,  me  and 
master  droav  hoam  in  the  cab,  as  happy  as  possbill. 

"  Chawls  you  d — d  scoundrel,"  says  he  to  me  (for  he  was  in 
an  exlent  humer),  "  when  I'm  married,  I'll  dubbil  your  wagis." 

This  he  might  do,  to  be  sure,  without  injaring  himself,  seing 
that  he  had  as  yet  never  paid  me  any.  But,  what  then  1  Law 
bless  us  !  things  would  be  at  a  pretty  pass  if  we  suvvants  only  lived 
on  our  wagis  ;  our  puekwisits  is  the  thing,  and  no  mistake. 

I  ixprest  my  gratitude  as  best  I  could ;  swoar  that  it  wasn't  for 
wagis  I  served  him— that  I  would  as  leaf  Aveight  upon  him  for 
nothink  :  and  that  never  never,  so  long  as  I  livd,  would  I,  of  my  own 
accord,  part  from  such  an  exlent  master.  By  the  time  these  two 
spitches  had  been  made— my  spitch  and  his— we  arrived  at  the 
"  Hotel  Mirabeu ; "  which,  as  everybodj'  knows,  ain't  very  distant 
from  the  Plas  Vandome.     LTp  we  marched  to  our  apartmiuce,  me 


286     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.    C.    J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

carrying  the  light  and  the  cloax,  master  hummiuk  a  hair  out  of  the 
oppra,  as  merry  as  a  hirk. 

I  opened  the  door  of  our  salong.  There  was  lights  already  in 
the  room  ;  an  empty  shampang  bottle  roalin  on  the  floar,  another  on 
the  table  :  near  wliich  the  sofy  was  dra^^•n,  and  on  it  lay  a  stout  old 
genlmn,  smoaking  seagars  as  if  he'd  bean  in  an  inn  tap-room. 

Deuceace  (who  abommauates  seagars,  as  I've  already  shown)  bust 
into  a  furious  raige  against  the  genlmn,  whom  he  could  hardly  see 
for  the  smoak  ;  and,  with  a  luimber  of  oaves  quite  unnecessary  to 
repeat,  asked  him  what  bisiniss  lie'd  there. 

The  smoaking  chap  rose,  and,  laying  down  his  seagar,  began  a 
ror  of  laffin,  and  said,  "  "What !  Algy  my  boy  !  don't  you  know  me  1 " 

The  reader  may  praps  recklect  a  \'ery  affecting  letter  which  was 
published  in  the  last  chapter  of  these  memoars  ;  in  which  the  writer 
requested  a  loan  of  five  hundred  pound  from  ]\Ir.  Algernon  Deuceace, 
and  which  boar  the  respected  signatnr  of  the  Earl  of  Crabs,  Mr. 
Deuceace's  own  father.  It  was  that  distinguished  arastycrat  who 
was  now  smokin  and  laifin  in  oiu"  room. 

My  Lord  Crabs  was,  as  I  preshumed,  about  60  years  old.  A 
stowt,  burly,  red-faced,  bald-headed  nobloman,  whose  nose  seemed 
blushing  at  wliat  liis  mouth  was  continually  swallowing ;  whose 
hand,  praps,  trembled  a  little;  and  whose  thy  and  legg  was  not 
quite  so  full  or  as  stcddy  as  tliey  had  been  in  former  days.  But  he 
was  a  respecktabble,  fine-looking  old  nobleman ;  and  though  it  must 
be  confest,  h  drunk  when  we  fast  made  our  appe<arance  in  the  salong, 
yet  by  no  means  moor  so  tlian  a  real  noblcmin  ought  to  be. 

"  "What,  Alt,'y  my  boy  !  "  shouts  out  his  Lordship,  advancing  and 
seasing  miister  by  the  hand,  "  doau't  you  know  your  own  father  ? " 

Master  seemed  anythink  but  overhappy.  "  My  Lord,"  says  he, 
looking  very  pail,  and  speakin  rayther  slow,  "  I  didn't — I  confess 
— the  unexpected  pleiTsurc — of  seeing  you  in  Paris.  The  fact  is,  sir," 
said  he,  recovering  himself  a  little  ;  "  the  fact  is,  there  was  such  a 
confounded  smoke  of  tobacco  in  the  room,  that  I  really  could  not 
see  who  the  stranger  was  who  had  paid  me  such  an  unexpected  visit." 

"A  bad  habit,  Algernon;  a  bad  habit,"  said  my  Lord,  lighting 
another  seagar  :  "a  disgusting  and  filtliy  practice,  Avhich  you,  my  dear 
child,  will  do  well  to  avoid.  It  is  at  best,  dear  Algernon,  but  a  nasty 
idle  pastime,  unfitting  a  man  as  well  for  mental  exertion  as  for  respect- 
able society ;  sacrificing,  at  once,  the  vigour  of  the  intellect  and  the 
graces  of  the  person.  By-the-bye,  what  infernal  bad  tobacco  they 
have,  too,  in  this  hotel.  Could  not  you  send  your  servant  to  get  me 
a  few  seagars  at  the  Cafd  de  Paris  !  Give  him  a  five-franc  piece,  and 
let  him  go  at  once,  that's  a  good  fellow." 

Here  his  Lordship  hiccupt,  and  drank  off  a  fresh  tumbler  of 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE   ,        287 

shampang.  Very  sulkily,  master  drew  out  the  coin,  and  sent  me 
on  tlie  errint. 

Knowing  the  Cafd  de  Paris  to  be  shut  at  that  hour,  I  didn't  say 
a  word,  but  quietly  establisht  myself  in  the  ante-room ;  where,  as 
it  happened  by  a  singler  coinstdints,  I  could  hear  every  word  of 
the  conversation  between  this  exlent  pair  of  relatifs. 

"  Help  yourself,  and  get  another  bottle,"  says  my  Lord,  after  a 
solium  paws.  My  poar  master,  the  king  of  all  other  eomitnies  in 
which  he  moved,  seamed  here  V)ut  to  play  secknd  fiddill,  and  went 
to  the  cubbard,  from  which  liis  father  had  already  igstracted  two 
bottils  of  his  prime  Sillary. 

He  put  it  down  before  his  father,  coft,  spit,  opened  the  ^\-indows, 
stirred  the  fire,  yawned,  clapt  his  hand  to  his  forehead,  and  suttnly 
seamed  as  uneezy  as  a  genlmn  could  be.  But  it  was  of  no  use  ;  the 
old  one  would  not  bu(lg.  "  Help  yourself,"  says  he  again,  "  and 
pass  me  the  bottil." 

"You  are  very  good,  father,"  says  master;  "but  really,  I 
neither  drink  nor  smoke." 

"  Right,  my  boy  :  quite  right.  Talk  about  a  good  conscience 
in  this  life — a  good  stomack  is  everythink.  No  bad  nights,  no 
headachs — eh  1  Quite  cool  and  collected  for  your  law  studies  in  the 
morning  ? — eh  1 "  And  the  old  nolileman  here  grinned,  in  a  manner 
Avhich  would  have  done  creddit  to  Mr.  Grimoldi. 

Master  sate  pale  and  wincing,  as  I've  seen  a  jtove  soldier  under 
the  cat.  He  didn't  anser  a  word.  His  exlent  pa  went  on,  warming 
as  he  continued  to  speak,  and  driidcing  a  fresh  glas  at  evry  full  stop. 

"How  you  nmst  improve,  with  such  talents  and  such  principles! 
Why,  Algernon,  all  London  talks  of  your  industry  and  perseverance : 
you're  not  merely  a  philosopher,  man ;  hang  it !  you've  got  the 
I)hilosopher's  stone.  Fine  rooms,  fine  horses,  champagne,  and  all 
for  200  a  year  !  " 

"  I  presume,  sir,''  says  my  master,  "  that  you  mean  the  two 
hundred  a  year  which  you  pay  me  ? " 

"  The  very  sum,  my  boy  ;  the  very  sum  ! "  cries  my  Lord,  laffin 
as  if  he  would  die.  "  Why,  that's  tlie  wonder !  I  never  pay  the 
two  hundred  a  year,  and  you  keep  all  this  state  up  upon  nothing. 
Give  me  yoiu-  secret,  0  you  young  Trismegistus !  Tell  your  old 
father  how  such  wonders  can  be  worked,  and  I  will — yes,  then,  upon 
my  word,  I  will — pay  you  your  two  hundred  a  year  !  " 

"  Er^Jin,  my  Lord,"  says  Mr.  Dcuceace,  starting  up,  and  losing 
all  patience,  "  will  you  have  the  goodness  to  tell  me  what  this  visit 
means  1  You  leave  me  to  starve,  for  all  you  care  :  and  you  grow 
mighty  facetious  because  I  earn  my  bread.  You  find  me  in  pros- 
perity and " 


288     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.    C.    J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

"  Precisely,  my  boy,  precisely.  Keep  your  temper,  and  pass 
that  bottle.  I  find  you  in  pnispcrity ;  and  a  young  gentleman  of 
your  genius  and  ac(]uiremcnts  a.sks  me  why  I  seek  your  society  ? 
Oh,  Algernon  !  Algernon  !  this  is  not  worthy  of  such  a  profound 
philosopher.  HA //  do  I  seek  you  ?  Why,  because  you  mr  in  pros- 
perity, 0  my  son  !  else,  why  the  devil  should  I  bother  myself  about 
you?  Did  I,  your  poor  mother,  or  your  family,  ever  get  from  you 
a  single  affectionate  feeling  1  Did  we,  or  any  other  of  your  friends 
or  intimates,  ever  know  you  to  be  guilty  of  a  single  honest  or  gene- 
rous action  ?  Did  we  ever  pretend  any  love  for  you,  or  you  for  us  ? 
Algernon  Deuceacc,  you  don't  want  a  father  to  tell  you  that  you  arc 
a  swindler  and  a  spendtlirift !  I  have  paid  thousands  for  the  debts 
of  yourself  and  your  bnithers  ;  and,  if  you  pay  nobody  else,  I  am 
determined  you  shall  repay  me.  You  would  not  do  it  by  fair  means, 
when  I  WTote  to  you  and  asked  you  for  a  loan  of  money.  I  knew 
you  woulil  not.  Had  I  written  again  to  warn  you  of  my  coming, 
you  would  have  given  me  the  slip ;  and  .';o  I  came,  uniuvitetl,  to 
force  you  to  repay  me.  That's  why  I  am  here,  Mr.  Algernon  ;  and 
so  help  younelf  and  pass  the  bottle." 

After  this  spcach,  the  old  gfidiiin  smik  ilown  on  the  sofa,  and 
])u(red  as  nnich  smoke  out  of  his  mouth  as  if  he'd  been  the  chindcy 
of  a  steam-injian.  I  was  plea.sc(l,  I  confess,  with  the  scan,  and  liked 
to  .see  this  venrablile  and  virtuous  old  man  a-nocking  his  son  about 
the  hed ;  just  as  Deuceacc  had  done  with  Mr.  Richard  Blewitt,  a.s 
I've  before  shown.  Master's  face  wa.s,  fust,  red-hot:  next,  chawk- 
white  ;  and  then,  sky-blew.  He  lookeil,  for  all  the  world,  like  Mr. 
Tiiii>y  Cooke  in  the  tragady  of  Frnnkinstamj.  At  last,  he  man- 
niilgcd  to  speek. 

"  My  Lord,"  says  he,  "  I  expected  when  I  saw  you  that  some 
such  scheme  wa.s  on  foot.  Swindler  and  spendthrift  a.s  I  am,  at 
least  it  is  but  a  family  failing ;  and  I  am  indebted  for  my  virtues 
to  my  father's  jjrecious  example.  Your  Lordship  ha.**,  I  i)erceive, 
added  drunkenness  to  the  list  of  your  accomplishments ;  and,  I 
suj)pose,  under  the  influence  of  that  gentlemanly  excitement,  you 
have  come  to  make  these  preposterous  ])ropositions  to  me.  When 
you  are  sober,  you  will,  perhaps,  be  wise  enough  t<i  know,  that, 
fool  as  I  may  be,  I  am  not  such  a  fool  as  you  think  me ;  and  that 
if  I  have  got  money  I  intend  to  keep  it — every  farthing  of  it,  though 
you  were  to  be  ten  times  as  drunk,  and  ten  times  as  threatening 
as  you  are  now." 

"Well,  well,  my  boy,"  said  Lord  Crabs,  who  seemed  to  have 
been  half-a.slee])  (hiring  his  son's  oratium,  and  received  all  his  sneers 
and  sunasms  wit!i  the  most  complete  good-humour;  "well,  well,  if 
/ou  will  resist,  tant  jns  pour  toi.     I've  no  desire  to   ruin   you, 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR  DEUCEACE  289 

recollect,  and  am  not  in  the  slightest  degree  angry ;  but  I  must  and 
■will  have  a  thousand  pounds.  You  hud  better  give  me  the  monej'" 
at  once ;  it  will  cost  you  more  if  you  don't." 

"Sir,"  says  Mr.  JDeuceace,  "  I  Avill  be  cciually  candid.  I  wo>dd 
not  give  you  a  farthing  to  save  you  from " 

Here  I  thought  proper  to  o[)en  tlic  doar,  and,  touching  my  hat, 
said,  ''  I  have  been  to  the  Cafe  de  Paris,  my  Lord,  but  the  house 
is  shut." 

"  Bon  :  there's  a  good  lad  ;  yoii  may  keep  the  five  francs.  And 
now,  get  me  a  candle  and  show  me  downstairs." 

But  my  master  seized  tlie  wax  taper.  "  Pardon  me,  my  Lord," 
says  he.  "  What !  a  servant  do  it.  when  your  son  is  in  the  room  ? 
Ah,  par  exemple,  my  dear  father,"  said  he,  laughing,  "  you  think 
there  is  no  politeness  left  among  us."     And  he  led  the  way  out. 

"  Good-night,  my  dear  boy,"  said  Lord  Crabs. 

"  God  bless  you,  sir."  savs  ]m\  "  Are  you  wrapped  warm.  ? 
Mind  the  step  !  " 

And  so  this  affeckslmate  pair  parted. 


M 


CHAPTER   III 

MINElfVRIXG 

ASTER  rose  the  nes  morning  with  a  dismal  countinants — 
he  seamed  to  think  that  his  pa's  visit  boded  him  no 
good.  I  heard  him  muttering  at  his  brexfast,  and  fimi- 
bhng  among  his  huuihvd  iiuinul  notes ;  once  he  liad  laid  a  piirsle 
of  them  aside  (I  knew  what  he  meant),  to  send  'em  to  his 
father.  "  But  no,"  says  he  at  last,  clutching  tliem  all  up  to- 
gether again,  and  throwing  them  into  his  escritaw,  "what  harm 
can  he  do  me?  If  he  is  a  knave,  I  know  another  who's  full  as 
sharj).  Let's  see  if  we  cannot  beat  him  at  his  own  weapons." 
With  tliat  I\Ir.  Deuceace  drost  himself  in  his  best  clothes,  and 
marched  off  to  the  Plas  Viindom,  to  pay  his  cort  to  the  fak  widdo 
and  the  intresting  orfn. 

It  was  abowt  ten  o'clock,  antl  he  propoased  to  the  ladies,  on 
seeing  them,  a  nmnber  of  ]ilanns  for  the  day's  rackryation.  Riding 
in  the  Boily  Balmig,  g<)in<r  to  the  Twillaries  to  see  King  Looy  Disweet 
(who  was  then  the  raining  sufferin  of  the  French  crownd)  go  to 
chni»plp,  and,  finely,  a  dinner  at  5  o'clock  at  the  Caffy  de  Parry ; 
whents  they  were  all  to  adjouni,  to  see  a  new  peace  at  the  theatre 
of  the  Pot  St.  Martin,  called  "  Sussannar  and  the  Elders." 

The  gals  agread  to  ever>-think,  exsep  the  two  last  preposi- 
tium?:.  "  We  have  an  engagement,  my  dear  Mr.  Algernon,"  said 
my  L:i<ly.  "  Look — a  ven.'  kind  letter  from  Lady  Bobtail."  And 
she  handed  over  a  pafewmd  noat  from  that  exolted  lady.  It 
ran  thus  : — 

"Fbg.  St.  Honou£:  Thursday,  Feb.  In,  1817. 

"  My  dear  Lady  Griffin,  —  It  is  an  age  since  we  met. 
Harassing  public  duties  occupy  so  much  myself  and  Lord  Bobtail, 
tlr.it  we  have  scarce  time  to  see  our  jjrivate  friends  ;  among  whom, 
I  hope,  my  dear  Lady  Griffin  will  allow  me  to  rank  her.  Will  you 
excuse  so  very  unceremonious  an  invitation,  and  dine  with  us  at 
the  embassy  to-day  ?  We  shall  be  en  petite  comite',  and  shall  have 
the  pleasure  of  hearing,  I  hope,  some  of  your  charming  daughter's 
singing  in  the   evening.     I  ought,  perhaps,   to  have   addressed  a 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  291 

separate  note  to  <lear  Miss  Griffin ;  but  I  hope  slie  M-ill  pardon  a 
poor  diplomate^  who  has  so  many  letters  to  write,  you  know. 

"Farewell  till  seven,  when  I  positively  must  see  you  both. 
Ever,  dearest  Lady  Griffin,  your  affectionate 

"Eliza  Bobtail." 

Such  a  letter  from  the  ambassdriss,  brot  by  the  ambasdor's 
Shassure,  and  sealed  vdth  his  seal  of  arms,  would  affect  anybody 
in  the  middling  ranx  of  life.  It  droav  Lady  Griffin  mad  wth 
delight ;  and,  long  before  my  master's  arrivle,  she'd  sent  Mortimer 
and  Fitzclarence,  her  two  footmin,  along  with  a  polite  reply  in 
the  affummatiff. 

Master  read  the  noat  -ftith  no  such  fealinx  of  joy.  He  felt  that 
there  was  somethink  a-going  on  behind  the  seans,  and,  though  he 
could  not  tell  how,  was  sure  that  some  danger  was  near  him. 
That  old  fox  of  a  father  of  his  had  begun  his  M'Inations  pretty 
early ! 

Deuceace  handed  back  tlie  letter ;  sneared,  and  poohd,  and 
hinted  that  such  an  invitation  was  an  insult  at  best  (what  he  called 
a  2)ees  ally) ;  and,  the  ladies  might  depend  upon  it,  was  only  sent 
because  Lady  Bobtail  wanted  to  fill  up  two  spare  places  at  her 
table.  But  Lady  Griffin  and  Miss  would  not  have  his  insinwations; 
they  knew  too  fu  lords  ever  to  refuse  an  invitatium  from  any  one 
of  them.  Go  they  would ;  and  poor  Deuceace  must  dine  alone. 
After  they  had  been  on  their  ride,  and  had  had  their  otlier  amuse- 
min(;e,  master  came  back  with  them,  chatted,  and  laft ;  he  was 
mighty  sarkastix  with  my  Lady ;  tender  and  sentrymentle  with 
Miss,  and  left  them  both  in  high  sperrits  to  perform  their  twollet, 
before  dinner. 

As  I  came  to  the  door  (for  I  was  as  famillyer  as  a  servant  of 
the  house),  as  I  came  into  the  drawing-room  to  announts  his  cab, 
I  saw  master  very  quietly  taking  his  jjocket-book  (or  2^ot  fool,  as 
the  French  call  it)  and  thrusting  it  under  one  of  the  cushinx  of  the 
sofa.     What  game  is  this?  thinx  I. 

Why,  tins  was  the  game.  In  about  two  howrs,  when  he  knew 
the  ladies  were  gon,  he  pretends  to  be  vastly  anxious  abowt  the 
loss  of  his  i?otfolio ;  and  back  he  goes  to  Lady  Griffinses  to  seek 
for  it  there. 

"  Pray,"  says  he,  on  going  in,  "  ask  Miss  Kicksey  if  I  may 
see  her  for  a  single  moment."  And  down  comes  Miss  Kicksey, 
quite  smiling,  and  happy  to  see  him. 

"  Law,  Mr.  Deuceace ! "  says  she,  trying  to  l^lush  as  hard  as 
ever  she  could,  "  you  quite  surprise  me  !  I  don't  know  wliethcr 
I  ought,  really,  being  alone,  to  admit  a  gentleman." 


292     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.   J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

"  Xay,  don't  say  so,  dear  Miss  Kicksey  !  for  do  you  know,  I 
came  here  for  a  double  purpose — to  ask  about  a  pocket-book  which  I 
have  lost,  and  may,  perhaps,  have  left  hero ;  and  then,  to  ask  you  if 
you  will  have  the  great  goodness  to  pity  a  solitary  bachelor,  and 
give  him  a  cup  of  your  nice  tea  1 " 

JiJ'ice  tea  !  I  tiiot  I  should  have  split ;  for  I'm  blest  if  master 
iiad  eaten  a  morsle  of  dinner  ! 

Never  mind  :  down  to  tea  they  sat.  "  Do  you  take  cream  and 
sugar,  dear  sir  ?  "  says  poar  Kicksey,  with  a  voice  as  tender  as  a 
tuttle-duff. 

•Both,  dearest  Miss  Kicksey!"  answers  master;  who  stowed 
in  a  power  of  sashong  and.  muffiux  which  would  have  done  honour 
to  a  washawoman. 

I  shan't  describe  the  conversation  that  took  place  betwigst  master 
and  this  young  lady.  The  reader,  praps,  knows  y  Deuceace  took 
the  trouble  to  talk  to  her  for  an  hour,  and  to  swallow  all  her  tea. 
He  wanted  to  find  out  from  her  all  she  knew  about  the  famly  money 
matters,  and  settle  at  once  which  of  the  two  Griffinses  he  should 
marry. 

The  poar  thing,  of  cors,  wa.s  no  match  for  such  a  man  as  my 
master.  In  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  he  had,  if  I  may  use  the  igspres- 
sion,  "  turned  her  inside  out."  He  knew  everything  that  she  knew  ; 
and  that,  poar  creiituro,  was  very  little.  There  was  nine  thousand 
a  year,  she  had  heard  say,  in  money,  in  houses,  in  lianks  in  Injar, 
and  what  not.  Boath  the  ladies  signed  papei-s  for  selling  or  buying, 
and  the  money  seemed  equilly  divi<led  betwigst  them. 

Xine  thousand  a  i/ear  I  Deuceace  went  away,  his  ohecx  ting- 
ling, his  heart  beating.  He,  without  a  penny,  could  nex  morning, 
if  he  liked,  be  master  of  five  thousand  per  hannum  ! 

Yes.  But  how"?  "Which  had  tlie  money,  the  mother  or  the 
daughter?  All  the  tea-drinking  had  not  taught  him  this  piece  of 
noUidge ;  and  Deuceace  thought  it  a  pity  that  he  could  not  marry 
both. 

The  ladies  came  ])ack  at  night,  mightaly  pleased  with  tlieir  re- 
ception at  the  ambasdor's ;  and,  stepjjing  out  of  their  carridge,  bid 
coachmin  drive  on  with  a  gentleniin  who  had  handed  them  out — 
a  stout  old  gentlemin,  who  shook  hands  most  tenderly  at  parting, 
and  promised  to  call  often  u])on  my  Lady  Griffin.  He  was  so 
polite,  that  he  Avanted  to  mount  the  stairs  with  her  Ladyship  :  but 
no,  she  would  not  suffer  it.  "  Edward,"  says  she  to  the  coachmin, 
quite  loud,  and  ]ileased  that  all  the  ]ieople  in  the  hotel  should  hear 
her,  "  you  will  take  the  carriage,  and  drive  his  Lordship  home." 
Now,  can  you  guess  who  his  Lordship  was  ?     The  Right  Hon.  the 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  293 

Earl  of  Crabs,  to  be  sure ;  tlae  very  old  genlmn  whom  I  had  seen 
on  such  charming  terms  with  his  son  the  day  before.  Master  knew 
this  the  nex  day,  and  began  to  think  he  had  l:;eeu  a  fool  to  deny 
his  pa  the  thousand  ])ound. 

Xow,  though  the  suckmstansies  of  the  dinner  at  the  ambasdor's 
only  came  to  my  years  some  time  after,  I  may  as  well  relate  'em 
here,  word  for  word,  as  they  was  told  me  by  the  very  genlmn  ■\\-ho 
waited  behind  Lord  Crabseses  chair. 

There  was  only  a  '■'■petty  comity"  at  dinner,  as  Lady  Bobtail 
said ;  and  my  Lord  Crabs  was  placed  betwigst  the  two  GritBnses, 
being  mighty  ellygant  and  palite  to  both.  "  Allow  me,"  says  he 
to  Lady  G.  (between  the  soop  and  the  fish),  "  my  dear  madam, 
to  thank  you — fervently  thank  you  for  your  goodness  to  my 
poor  boy.  Your  Ladyship  is  too  young  to  experience,  but,  I 
am  sure,  far  too  tender  not  to  understand  the  gratitude  which 
must  till  a  fond  parent's  heart  for  kindness  shoAvn  to  his  child. 
Believe  me,"  says  my  Lord,  looking  lier  full  and  tenderly  in  tlie 
flice,  "that  the  favours  you  have  done  to  another  have  been  done 
equally  to  myself,  and  awaken  in  my  bosom  the  same  grateful  and 
affectionate  feelings  with  which  you  have  already  inspired  my  son 
Algernon." 

Lady  Griffin  bluslit,  and  droopt  her  head  till  her  ringlets  fell 
into  her  fish-plate  :  and  she  swallowed  Lord  Crabs's  flumry  just  as 
she  would  so  many  musharuins.  My  Lord  (whose  powers  of  slack- 
jaw  was  notoarious)  nex  addrast  another  spitch  to  Mi^s  Griffin.  He 
said  he'd  heard  how  Deuceace  was  situated.  Miss  blusht  — what  a 
happy  dog  he  was — i\Iiss  blusht  crimson,  and  then  he  sighed  deeply, 
and  began  eating  his  tiu-bat  and  lobster  sos.  Master  was  a  good 
un  at  flumry,  but,  laAv  bless  you  !  he  was  no  moar  cipnll  to  the  old 
man  than  a  molehill  is  to  a  mounting.  Before  the  night  was  over, 
he  had  made  as  much  progress  as  another  man  would  in  a  ear. 
One  almost  forgot  his  red  nose  and  his  big  stomick,  and  his  wicked 
leering  i's,  in  his  gentle  insiniv\-ating  woicc,  his  fund  of  annygoats, 
and,  above  all,  the  bewtifle,  inorl,  religious,  and  honrabble  toan  of 
his  genral  conversation.  Praps  you  will  say  that  these  ladies  were, 
for  such  rich  pipple,  mightaly  esaly  captivated;  but  recklcct,  my 
dear  sir,  tiiafc  they  were  fresh  from  Injar, — that  they'd  not  scan 
many  lonk., — that  they  adoared  the  peeridge,  as  every  honest 
woman  docs  h\  England  who  has  proper  feelinx,  and  has  read  the 
fashuabble  novvles,— and  that  here  at  Paris  was  their  fust  step 
into  fashnabble  sosiaty. 

\Xd\,  after  dinner,  while  Miss  Matilda  was  singing  "  Die  tantie," 
or  '-'Dip  your  chair,"  or  some  of  them  sellabrated  Italyian  hairs 
(when  she  began  this  squall,  hang  me  if  she'd  ever  stop),  my  Lord 
;^3 


294     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.   J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

gets  hold  of  Lady  Griffin  again,  and  gradgaly  begins  to  talk  to  her 
in  a  very  different  strane. 

"What  a  blessing  it  is  for  us  all,"  says  he,  "that  Algernon  has 
found  a  friend  so  respectable  as  your  Ladyship." 

"  Indeed,  my  Lord  :  and  "why  1  I  suppose  I  am  not  the  only 
respectable  friend  that  3Ir.  Deuceace  has  l "' 

"No,  surely;  not  the  only  one  he  has  had;  his  birth,  and, 
permit  me  to  say,  his  jelationship  to  myself,  have   jirocurcd  him 

many.     But "  (here  my  Lord  heaved  a  very  aflecting  and  large 

sigh). 

"  But  what  1 "  says  my  Lady,  laffing  at  the  igspression  of  his 
dismal  face.  "  You  don't  mean  that  Mr.  Deuceace  has  lost  them 
or  is  unworthy  of  them  I  " 

"I  trust  not,  my  dear  madam,  I  trust  not;  but  he  is  ^\^ih\, 
thoughtless,  extravagant,  and  emba  mossed :  and  you  know  a  man 
under  these  circumstances  is  not  very  particular  as  to  his  associates." 

"  Embarrassed  1  Good  heavens  !  He  says  he  has  two  thousand 
a  year  left  him  by  a  godmother;  and  he  does  not  seem  even  to 
spend  his  income  —  a  very  handsome  independence,  too,  for  a 
bachelor." 

My  Lord  nodded  his  head  sadly,  and  said, — "  Will  your  Lady- 
ship give  me  your  word  of  honour  to  be  secret  ?  My  son  has  but 
a  thousand  a  year,  which  I  allow  him,  and  is  heavily  in  debt.  He 
has  played,  madam,  I  fear;  ami  for  this  rctuson  I  am  so  glad  to 
hear  that  he  is  in  a  respectable  domestic  circle,  where  he  may  learn, 
in  the  presence  of  for  greater  and  jturer  attractions,  to  forget  the 
dice-box,  and  the  low  company  which  has  been  his  bane." 

My  Lady  Griffin  looked  very  gi-ave  indeed.  Was  it  tnie  ?  Was 
Deuceace  sincere  in  his  professions  of  love,  or  was  he  only  a  sharper 
wooing  her  for  her  money?  Could  she  doubt  her  infcmner?  his 
own  father,  and,  what's  more,  a  re^d  tlesh  and  blood  pear  of  parly- 
ment?  She  determined  she  would  try  him.  Praps  she  did  not 
know  she  had  liked  Deuceace  so  much,  until  she  kem  to  feel  how 
much  she  should  hate  him  if  she  found  he'd  been  playing  her  false. 

The  evening  was  over,  and  back  they  came,  as  wee've  seen, — 
my  Lord  driving  home  in  my  Lady's  can-idge,  her  Ladyship  and 
Miss  walking  upstaii-s  to  their  own  aiiartminco. 

Here,  for  a  wonder,  Avas  poar  Miss  Ivicksy  quite  happy  and 
smiling,  and  evidently  fidl  of  a  secret, — something  mighty  ])lcasant, 
to  judge  from  her  loox.  She  did  not  long  keep  it.  As  she  was 
making  tea  for  the  ladies  (for  in  that  house  they  took  a  cup  regidiir 
before  betltime),  "  Well,  my  L;uly,"  says  she,  "  who  do  you  think 
has  been  to  drink  tea  with  me  1 "  Poar  thing,  a  freudly  face  was 
an  event  iu  her  life — a  tea-pai-ty  quite  a  hera ! 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  295 

"  Why,  perhaps,  Lenoir  my  maid,"  says  my  Lady,  looking  grave. 
"1  wish.  Miss  Kicksey,  you  would  not  demean  yourself  by  mixing 
with  my  domestics.  Recollect,  madam,  that  you  are  sister  to 
Lady  Griffin." 

"  No,  my  Lady,  it  was  not  Lenoir ;  it  was  a  gentleman,  and  a 
handsome  gentleman,  too." 

"  Oh,  it  was  Monsieur  de  I'Orge,  then,"  says  Miss ;  "  he  promised 
to  bruig  me  some  guitar-strings." 

"  No,  nor  yet  M.  de  I'Orge.  He  came,  but  was  not  so  polite 
as  to  ask  for  me.  What  do  you  think  of  your  own  beau,  tlie 
Honourable  Mr.  Algernon  Deuceace  1 "  and,  so  saying,  poar  Kicksey 
clapped  her  hands  together,  and  looked  as  joyfle  as  if  she'd  come 
into  a  fortin. 

"  Mr.  Deuceace  here  ;  and  Avhy,  pray  1 "  says  my  Lady,  who 
recklected  all  that  his  exlent  pa  had  been  saying  to  her. 

"Why,  in  tlie  first  place,  he  had  left  his  pocket-book,  and  in 
the  second,  he  wanted,  he  said,  a  dish  of  my  nice  tea ;  which  he 
took,  and  stayed  with  me  an  hour,  or  moar." 

"  And  pray,  Miss  Kicksey,"  said  Miss  Matilda,  quite  contemp- 
shusly,  "what  may  have  been  the  subject  of  your  conversation  with 
Mr.  Algernon  ?  Did  you  talk  politics,  or  nnisic,  or  fine  arts,  or 
metaphysics  1 "  Miss  M.  being  Avhat  was  called  a  blue  (as  most 
liump-backed  women  in  sosiaty  arc),  always  made  a  pint  to  speak 
on  these  grand  subjects. 

"  No,  indeed  ;  he  talked  of  no  such  awful  matters.  If  he  had, 
you  know,  Matilda,  I  should  never  have  understood  him.  First 
we  talked  about  the  weather,  next  about  muffins  and  crumpets. 
Crumpets,  he  said,  he  liked  best ;  and  then  we  talked  "  (here  Miss 
Kicksey's  voice  fell)  "  about  poor  dear  Sir  George  in  heaven !  wliat 
a  good  husband  he  was,  and " 

"W]iat  a  good  fortune  he  left, — eh,  Miss  Kicksey?"  says  my 
Lady,  with  a  hard  snearing  voice,  and  a  diabollicle  gr'm. 

"  Yes,  dear  Leonora,  he  spoke  so  respectfully  of  your  blessed 
husband,  and  seemed  so  anxious  about  you  and  Matilda,  it  was 
quite  cliarming  to  hear  him,  dear  man  !  " 

"  And  pray.  Miss  Kicksey,  what  did  you  tell  him  1 " 

"Oh,  I  told  him  that  you  and  Leonora  had  nine  thousand  a 
year,  and " 

"  What  then  ? " 

"  Why,  nothing ;  that  is  all  I  know.  I  am  sure  I  wisli  I  had 
ninety,"  says  poor  Kicksey,  her  eyes  turning  to  heaven. 

"Ninety  fiddlesticks!  Did  not  Mr.  Deuceace  ask  liow  the 
money  was  left,  and  to  which  of  us  1 " 

"Yes ;  but  I  could  not  tell  him." 


296     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.   J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

"I  knew  it!"  says  my  Lady,  slapping  down  her  tea-cup, — "I 
knew  it!" 

"Well!"  says  Miss  Matilda,  "and  why  not,  Lady  Griffin? 
There  is  no  reason  you  should  break  your  tea-cup,  because  Algernon 
asks  a  harmless  question.  He  is  not  mercenary ;  he  is  all  (candour, 
innocence,  generosity !  He  is  liimself  blessed  with  a  sufficient 
portion  of  the  world's  goods  to  be  content ;  and  often  and  often  has 
he  told  me  he  hoped  the  Avoman  of  his  choice  might  come  to  him 
without  a  penny,  that  he  might  show  the  purity  of  his  affection." 

"  I've  no  doubt,"  says  my  Lady.  "  Pcrhap-s  the  lady  of  his 
choice  is  Miss  Matilda  Griffin  ! "  and  she  flung  out  of  the  room, 
slamming  the  door,  and  leaving  Miss  Matilda  to  bust  into  tears, 
as  Avas  her  reglar  custom,  and  poiu:  her  loves  and  woas  into  the 
buzzom  of  Miss  Kicksey. 


CHAPTER  IV 

"HITTING   THE  NALE  ON   THE  HEDD" 

THE  iiex  morning,  down  came  me  and  master  to  Lady  Griffinses, 
■ — I  amusing  myself  with  the  gals  in  the  antyroom,  he  paying 
his  devours  to  the  ladies  in  the  salong.  Miss  was  thrumming 
on  her  gitter ;  my  Lady  was  before  a  great  box  of  papers,  l)usy 
with  accounts,  bankers'  books,  lawyers'  lettei's,  and  what  not.  Law 
bless  us!  it's  a  kind  of  bisniss  I  should  like  well  en uff;  especially 
when  my  hannual  account  was  seven  or  eiglit  thousand  on  the 
right  side,  like  my  Lady's.  My  Lady  in  tlds  house  kep  all  these 
matters  to  herself.  Miss  was  a  vast  deal  too  sentrimentle  to  mind 
business. 

Miss  Matilda's  eyes  sparkled  as  master  came  in ;  she  pinted 
gracefully  to  a  i)lace  on  the  spfy  beside  her,  which  Deuceace  took. 
My  Lady  only  looked  up  for  a  moment,  smiled  very  kindly,  and 
down  went  her  head  ammig  the  jjapers  agen,  as  busy  as  a  B. 

"Lady  Griffin  has  had  letters  from  London,"  says  Miss,  "from 
nasty  lawyers  and  people.  Come  lierc  and  sit  by  me,  you  naughty 
man  you  ! " 

And  down  sat  master.  "Willingly,"  says  he,  "my  dear  Miss 
Griffin ;  why,  I  declare,  it  is  quite  a  tcte-a-tcte." 

"Well,"  says  Mis3  (after  the  prillimnary  iiumries,  in  coarse), 
"we  met  a  friend  of  yours  at  the  embassy,  Mr.  Deuceace." 

"  My  father,  doubtless  ;  he  is  a  great  friend  of  the  ambassador, 
and  surprised  me  myself  by  a  visit  the  night  before  last." 

"  What  a  dear  delightful  old  man !  how  he  loves  you.  Mr. 
Deuceace ! " 

"  Oh,  amazingly  ! "  says  master,  throwing  his  i's  to  heaven. 

"  He  spoke  of  nothing  but  you,  and  such  praises  of  you  !  " 

Master  breatlied  more  freely.  "He  is  very  good,  my  dear 
father;  but  blind,  as  all  fathers  are,  he  is  so  partial  and  attached 
to  me." 

"He  spoke  of  you  being  his  favourite  child,  and  regi-etted  that 
you  were  not  his  eldest  son.  '  I  can  but  leave  him  tlie  small  portion 
of  a  younger  brother,'  he  said ;  '  but  never  mind,  he  has  talents,  a 
noble  name,  and  an  independence  of  his  own.'  " 


298     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.  J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

"  An  independence  ?  yes,  oh  yes ;  I  am  quite  independent  of 
my  father." 

"  Two  thousand  pounds  a  year  left  you  by  your  godmother ;  the 
very  same  you  told  us,  you  know." 

"Neither  more  nor  less,"  says  master,  bobbing  his  head;  "a 
sufficiency,  my  dear  Miss  Griffin, — to  a  man  of  my  moderate  habits 
an  ample  provision." 

"  By-tlie-bye,"  cries  out  Lady  Griffin  interrupting  the  conversa- 
tion, "  you  who  are  talking  about  money  matters  there,  I  wish  you 
would  come  to  the  aid  of  poor  me  I  Come,  naughty  boy,  and  help 
me  out  with  this  long  long  sum." 

DidnH  he  go — that's  all !  My  i,  how  his  i's  shone,  as  he  skipt 
across  the  room,  and  seated  himself  by  my  Lady  ! 

"  Look ! "  said  she,  "  mv  agents  ^^Tite  me  over  that  they  have 
received  a  remittance  of  7200  rupees,  at  2s.  9d.  a  rupee.  Do  tell 
me  what  the  sum  is,  in  pounds  and  shillings ; "  which  master  did 
with  great  gravity. 

"  Nine  hundred  and  ninety  pounds.  Good  ;  I  dare  say  you  are 
right.  I'm  sure  I  can't  go  through  the  fatigue  to  see.  And  now 
comes  another  question.  Whose  money  is  this,  mine  or  Matilda's  % 
You  see  it  is  the  interest  of  a  sum  in  India,  Avhich  we  have  not  had 
occasion  to  touch ;  and,  according  to  the  terms  of  poor  Sir  George's 
will,  I  really  don't  knovr  how  to  dispose  of  the  money  except  to 
spend  it.     Matilda,  what  shall  we  do  with  it  ? " 

"La,  ma'am,  I  wish  you  would  arrantrt^  the  business  yom-sclf" 

"  Well,  then,  Algernon,  you  tell  me ; "  and  she  laid  her  hand  ou 
his,  and  looked  him  most  pathetickly  in  the  face. 

"  Why,"  says  he,  "  I  don't  know  how  Sir  George  left  his  money; 
you  must  let  me  see  his  will,  first." 

"  Oh,  willingly." 

Master's  chair  seemed  suddenly  to  have  got  springs  in  the  cushns; 
he  was  obliged  to  hold  himself  down. 

"  Look  here,  I  have  only  a  copy,  taken  by  my  hand  from  Sir 
George's  own  manuscript.  Soldiers,  you  know,  do  not  employ 
lawyers  much,  and  this  w;\s  written  on  the  night  before  going  into 
action."  And  she  read,  "  '  I,  George  Griffin,'  »&:c.  &c. — you  know 
how  these  things  begin — '  being  now  of  sane  mind ' — um,  um,  um, 
— :*  leave  to  my  friends,  Thomas  Abraham  Hicks,  a  colonel  in  the 
H.  E.  I.  Company's  Service,  and  to  John  Monro  Mackirkincroft  (of 
the  house  of  Huffle,  Mackirkincroft,  and  Dobbs,  at  Calcutta),  the 
whole  of  my  property,  to  be  realised  as  speedily  as  they  may  (con- 
sistently with  the  interests  of  the  property),  in  trust  for  my  wife, 
Leonora  Emilia  Griffin  (born  L.  E.  Kicksey),  and  my  only  legitimate 
child,  Matilda  Griffin.     The  interest  resulting  from  sucli  property 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DECJCEACE  299 

to  be  paid  to  them,  share  and  share  alike ;  the  principal  to  remain 
untouched,  in  the  names  of  the  said  T.  A.  Hicks  and  J.  M.  Mac- 
kirkincroft,  until  the  death  of  my  wife,  Leonora  Emilia  Grithn,  Avhen 
it  shall  be  paid  to  my  daugliter,  Matilda  Griffin,  her  heirs,  executors, 
or  assigns.' " 

"  There,"  said  my  Lady,  "  we  won't  read  any  more ;  all  the  rest 
is  stuff.  But  now  you  know  the  whole  business,  tell  us  what  is  to 
be  done  with  the  money  1 " 

"Why,  the  money,  unquestionably,  should  be  divided  b(;tween 
you." 

"  Tant  mieux,  say  I;  I  really  thought  it  had  been  all  Matilda's." 

•  •  *  •  •  •  • 

There  was  a  paws  for  a  minit  or  two  after  the  will  had  been 
read.  Master  left  the  desk  at  which  he  had  Ijeen  seated  Avith  her 
Ladyship,  paced  up  and  ilown  the  room  for  a  while,  and  then  came 
round  to  the  place  where  Miss  Matilda  was  seated.  At  last  he  said, 
in  a  low,  trembling  voice, — 

"  I  am  almost  sorry,  my  dear  La<ly  Griffin,  that  you  have  read 
that  will  to  me ;  for  an  attachment  such  as  mine  must  seem,  I  fear, 
mercenary,  when  the  object  of  it  is  so  greatly  favoured  by  worldly 
fortune.  Miss  Griffin — Matilda  !  I  know  I  may  say  the  word  ;  your 
dear  eyes  grant  me  the  permission.  I  need  not  tell  you,  or  you, 
dear  mother-in-law,  how  long,  how  fondly,  I  have  adored  you.  My 
tender,  my  beautiful  Matilda,  I  will  not  affect  to  say  I  have  not  read 
your  heart  ere  this,  and  that  I  have  not  known  tlie  preference  with 
which  you  have  honoured  me.  Sj^eah  it,  dear  girl !  from  your  own 
sweet  lips :  in  the  presence  of  an  affectionate  parent,  utter  the 
sentence  which  is  to  seal  my  happiness  for  life.  Matilda,  dearest 
Matilda  !  say,  oh  say,  that  you  love  me  !  " 

Miss  M.  shivered,  turned  pail,  rowled  her  eyes  about,  and  fell  on 
master's  neck,  whispering  hodibly,  "  /  cfo  /  " 

My  Lady  looked  at  the  pair  for  a  moment  with  her  teeth  gTinding, 
her  i's  glaring,  her  busm  throbljing,  and  her  face  chock  wiiite ;  for 
all  the  workflike  Madam  Pasty,  in  the  oppra  of  "Mydear"  (when 
she's  goin  to  mudder  her  childring,  you  recklcct)  ;  and  out  she 
flounced  from  the  room,  without  a  word,  knocking  doAvn  poar  me, 
who  happened  to  be  very  near  the  dor,  and  leaving  my  master  along 
with  crook-back  mistress. 

I've  repotted  the  speech  he  made  to  her  pretty  well.  Tlie  fact 
is,  I  got  it  in  a  ruff'  copy;  only  on  the  copy  it's  Avrotc.  '' Lad.y 
Griffin,  Leonora  !  "  instead  of  "  Miss  Griffin,  Matilda"  as  in  the 
abuff,  and  so  on. 

IMaster  had  hit  the  right  nail  on  the  head  this  time,  he  thoiiglit : 

but  his  adventors  an't  over  yet. 


CHAPTER  V 
THE    GRIFFIN'S    CLAUDS 

WELL,  master  had  hit  the  right  nail  on  the  head  this  time : 
thaux  to  hick — the  crooked  one,  to  be  sure,  hut  then  it  had 
the  (joold  nohb,  which  "wa-s  the  part  Deuceixce  most  vahied, 
as  ■svell  he  should ;  being  a  counyshure  as  to  the  rellctiff  valyou  of 
pretious  metals,  and  much  preferring  virging  goold  like  this  to  poor 
old  battered  iron  like  my  Lady  Griffin. 

And  so,  in  spite  of  his  father  (at  whicli  old  noblemin  Mr.  Deuceace 
now  snapthis  fingers),  in  spite  of  his  detts  (which,  to  do  him  Justas, 
had  never  stood  much  in  his  way),  and  in  spite  of  his  povatty,  idle- 
ness, extravagans,  swindling,  and  debotcheries  of  all  kinds  (which 
an't  rieneralbj  very  favorable  to  a  young  man  Avho  has  to  make  his 
way  in  the  world) ;  in  spite  of  all,  there  he  was,  I  say,  at  the  topp 
of  the  trea,  the  fewclicr  master  of  a  perfect  fortim,  the  dcfianced 
husband  of  a  fool  of  a  wife.  What  can  mortial  man  want  more  ? 
Vishns  of  ambishn  now  occupial  his  soul.  Shooting  ])oxes,  oppra 
boxes,  money  boxes  always  full ;  hunters  at  Melton ;  a  seat  in  the 
House  of  Commins  :  Heaven  knows  what !  and  not  a  poar  footman, 
who  only  describes  Avhat  he's  seen,  and  can't,  in  cors,  jjcnnytrate 
into  the  idears  and  the  busms  of  men. 

You  may  be  shore  that  the  three-cornered  noats  came  pretty 
thick  now  from  the  Griffinscs.  Miss  was  always  a-writiiig  them 
befoar ;  and  now,  nite,  noon,  and  mornink,  breakfast,  dinner,  and 
sopper  ill  they  came,  till  my  i)antry  (for  master  never  read  'em, 
and  I  carried  'em  out)  was  puffickly  intolrabble  from  the  odor  of 
musk,  ambygrcasc,  bargymot,  and  other  sense  Avith  which  they 
were  impregniatcd.  Here's  the  contense  of  three  on  'cm,  which  I've 
kep  in  my  dex  these  twenty  years  as  skeewriosities.  Faw  !  I  can 
smel  'em  at  this  very  minit,  as  I  am  copying  tliem  down. 

Billy  Doo.     jSTo.  I. 

Mondat/  mominy,  2  o'clock. 

"  'Tis  the  witching  hour  of  night.  Luna  illumines  my  chamber, 
and  falls  upon  my  sleepless  pillow.     By  her  light  I  am  inditing 


THE    AMOUES    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  301 

these  words  to  thee,  my  Algernon.  My  brave  and  beautiful,  my 
soul's  lord !  when  shall  the  time  come  when  the  tedious  night  shall 
not  separate  us,  nor  the  blessed  day]  Twelve  !  one  !  two  !  Iliavc 
heard  the  bells  chime,  and  the  quarters,  and  never  cease  to  tliink  of 
my  husband.  My  adored  Percy,  pardon  the  girlish  confession, — 
I  have  kissed  the  letter  at  this  jtlace.  Will  thy  lips  press  it  too, 
•and  remtuu  for  a  moment  on  the  spot  which  has  been  etiually 
■saluted  by  your  .  Matilda  ? " 

This  was  the  fust  letter,  and  was  brot  to  our  house  by  one  of 
the  poar  footmin,  Fitzclarence,  at  sicks  o'clock  in  the  moraing.  I 
thot  it  was  for  life  and  death,  and  woak  master  at  that  extraornary 
horn-,  and  gave  it  to  him.  I  shall  never  forgit  him,  when  he  red  it ; 
he  cramped  it  up,  and  he  cust  and  swoar,  applying  to  the  lady  who 
roat,  the  genlmn  that  brought  it,  and  me  who  introjuiced  it  to  his 
notice  such  a  collection  of  epitafs  as  I  seldum  h<^red,  except  at 
Billinxgit.  The  fact  is  thiss :  for  a  fust  letter,  Miss's  noat  was 
rather  too  strong  and  scntymentle.  But  that  was  her  way  ;  she 
was  always  reaxling  melancholy  stoary  books — "Thaduse  of  Waw- 
saw,"  the  "  Sorrows  of  IMacWliirter,"  and  such  like. 

After  about  6  of  them,  master  never  yoused  to  read  theni ;  Ijut 
handid  them  over  to  me,  to  see  if  there  was  anythink  in  them  which 
must  be  answered,  in  order  to  kip  up  appearuntses,  Tlie  next 
letter  is — 

No.  II. 

"  Beloved  !  to  what  strange  madnesses  will  passion  lead  one ! 
Lady  Griffin,  since  yoiu-  avowal  yesterday,  has  not  spoken  a  word 
to  your  poor  Matilda;  has  declared  that  she  will  admit  no  one 
(heigho  !  not  even  you,  my  Algernon) ;  and  has  locked  herself  in 
her  OTTi  dressing-room.  I  do  believe  that  she  is  jealous,  and  fancies 
that  you  were  in  love  with  her !  Ha,  ha  !  I  could  have  told  her 
another  tale — n'est  ce  pas?  Adieu,  adieu,  adieu!  A  thousand 
thousand  million  kisses  !  ^I-  ""• 

"  Monday  afternoon,  2  o'docL" 

There  was  another  letter  kcm  before  bedtime ;  for  though  me 
and  master  called  at  the  Griffinses,  we  Avairnt  aloud  to  enter  at  no 
price.  Mortimer  and  Fitzclarence  grin'd  at  me,  as  much  as  to  say 
we  were  going  to  be  relations ;  but  I  don't  spose  master  was  very 
sorry  Avhcn  he  was  obleached  to  come  back  without  seeing  the  fair 
objict  of  his  afieckshns. 

Well,  on  Chewsdy  there  was  the  same  game ;  ditto  on  \\  ensday  ; 


302     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.  J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

only,  when  we  called  there,  who  should  we  see  but  our  father,  Lord 
Crabs,  who  was  waiving  his  hand  to  Miss  Kicksey,  and  saying  he 
should  be  hack  to  dinner  at  7,  just  as  me  and  master  came  up  the 
stares.  There  was  no  admittns  for  us  though.  "  Bah  !  bah  !  never 
mind,"  says  my  Lord,  taking  his  son  afteckshnately  by  the  hand. 
"  What,  two  strings  to  your  bow ;  ay,  Algernon  ?  The  dowager  a 
little  jealous,  miss  a  little  lovesick.  But  my  Lady's  fit  of  auger 
will  vanish,  and  I  promise  you,  my  boy,  that  you  shall  see  your 
fair  one  to-morrow." 

And  so  saying,  my  Lord  walked  master  down  stares,  looking  at 
him  as  tender  and  affeckshnat,  and  speaking  to  him  as  sweet  as 
posbill.  Master  did  not  know  what  to  think  of  it.  He  never  new 
what  game  his  old  flitherwas  at  ;  onlv  he  somehow  felt  that  he  had 
got  his  head  in  a  net,  in  spite  of  his  suxess  on  Sunday.  I  knew  it — 
I  knew  it  quite  well,  as  soon  as  I  saw  the  old  genlmn  igsamniin 
him,  by  a  kind  of  smile  which  came  over  his  old  face,  and  was 
somethink  betwigst  the  angellic  and  tlie  direbolliclc. 

But  master's  dowts  were  cleared  up  nex  day  and  every  thing 
was  bright  again.  At  brexfast,  in  comes  a  note  with  inclosier,  boath 
of  witch  I  here  copy  : — 

No.  IX. 

"  2'hursJay  morning. 

'■'  Victoria,  Victoria !  Mamma  has  yielded  at  last ;  not  he.r 
consent  to  our  union,  but  her  consent  to  receive  you  as  before ;  and 
has  promised  to  forget  the  past.  Silly  woman,  how  could  she  ever 
think  of  you  as  anything  but  the  lover  of  your  ^Matilda?  I  am 
in  a  whirl  of  delicious  joy  and  i)a.ssiouate  excitement.  I  have 
been  awake  all  this  long  night,  thinking  of  thee,  my  Algernon,  and 
longing  for  the  blissful  hour  of  meeting. 

""  Come  !  "  M.  G." 

This  is  the  inclosier  from  my  Lady  : — 

"I  WILL  not  tell  you  that  your  behaviour  on  Sunday  did  not 
deeply  shock  me.  I  had  been  foolish  enough  to  think  of  other 
plans,  and  to  fancy  your  heart  (if  you  had  any)  was  fixed  elsewhere 
than  on  one  at  whose  foibles  you  have  often  laughed  with  me,  and 
wliose  person  at  least  cannot  have  charmed  you. 

"  My  step-daughter  "snll  not,  I  presume,  marry  without  at  least 
going  through  the  ceremony  of  asking  my  consent ;  I  cannot,  as  yet, 
give  it.  Have  I  not  reason  to  doubt  whether  she  will  be  happy  in 
trusting  herself  to  you  1 


c 


THE    AMOUES    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  303 

"  But  she  is  of  age,  and  has  the  right  to  receive  in  her  own 
house  all  those  who  may  be  agreeable  to  her — certainly  you,  who 
are  likely  to  be  one  day  so  nearly  connected  with  her.  If  I  have 
honest  reason  to  believe  that  your  love  for  Miss  Griffin  is  sincere ; 
if  I  find  in  a  few  months  tliat  you  yourself  are  still  desirous  to  marry 
her,  I  can,  of  course,  place  no  further  obstacles  in  your  way. 

"  You  are  welcome,  then,  to  return  to  our  hotel.  I  cannot  pro- 
mise to  receive  you  as  I  did  of  old ;  you  would  despise  me  if  I  did. 
I  can  promise,  however,  to  think  no  more  of  all  that  has  passe<l 
between  us,  and  j-ield  up  my  own  happiness  for  that  of  the  daughter 
of  my  dear  husband..  L.  E.  G." 

Well,  now,  an't  this  a  manly,  straitforard  letter  enough,  and 
natral  from  a  woman  Avhom  we  had,  to  confess  the  truth,  treated 
most  scuvvily  ?  Master  thought  so,  and  went  and  made  a  tender 
respeckful  speach  to  Lady  Griffin  (a  little  flumry  costs  nothink). 
Grave  and  sorrofle  he  kist  her  hand,  and,  speakin  in  a  very  low 
adgitayted  voice,  calld  Hevn  to  witness  how  he  deplord  that  his 
conduct  should  ever  have  given  rise  to  such  an  unfortnt  ideer :  but 
if  he  might  offer  her  es^teem,  respect,  the  warmest  and  tenderest 
admiration,  he  trusted  she  would  accept  the  same,  and  a  deal  moar 
llmnry  of  the  kind,  with  dark  solium  glausis  of  the  eyes,  and  plenty 
of  white  pockit-hankercher. 

He  thought  he'd  make  all  safe.  Poar  fool !  he  was  in  a  net— 
sich  a  net  as  I  never  yet  see  set  to  ketch  a  roag  in. 


CHAPTER  VI 

THE  JEWEL 

THE  Shevalier  de  I'Orge,  the  young  Frenchmin  whom  I  wrote  of 
in  my  last,  who  had  been  rather  shy  of  his  visits  while  master 
Avas  coming  it  so  very  strong,  now  came  back  to  his  old  place 
by  the  side  of  Lady  Griffin  :  there  was  no  love  now,  though,  betwigst 
him  and  master,  although  the  Shevalier  had  got  his  lady  back  agin  ; 
Deuceace  being  comploatly  devoted  to  his  crookid  Teanus. 

The  Slievalier  Avas  a  little,  \>a\e,  moddist,  insinifishnt  creature ; 
and  I  shoodu't  have  thought,  from  his  appearants,  would  have  the 
heart  to  do  harm  to  a  fli,  much  less  to  stand  befor  such  a  tremendious 
tiger  and  fire-eater  as  my  master.  But  I  seg  putty  well,  after  a  week, 
from  his  manner  of  going  on — of  spoakin  at  master,  and  lookin  at 
him,  and  olding  his  lips  tight  when  Deuceace  came  into  the  room, 
and  glaring  at  him  witli  his  i's,  that  he  hated  the  Hourabble 
Algernon  Percy. 

Shall  I  tell  you  why  1  Because  my  Lady  Griffin  hated  him  : 
hated  him  wuss  than  pison,  or  the  devvle,  or  even  wuss  than  her 
daughter-in-law.  Praps  you  phansy  that  the  letter  you  have  juss 
red  was  honest ;  i)raps  you  amadgin  tliat  the  scan  of  the  reading  of 
the  A\'ill  came  on  by  mere  chans,  and  in  the  rcglar  cors  of  suckm- 
stansies  :  it  was  all  a  (jame^  I  tell  you — a  reglar  trap;  and  that 
extrodnar  clever  young  man,  my  master,  as  neatly  put  his  foot  into 
it,  as  ever  a  pocher  did  in  fesnt  preserve. 

The  Shevalier  had  his  q  from  Lady  Griffin.  Wlien  Deuceace 
went  off  the  feald,  back  came  De  TOrgo  to  her  feet,  not  a  A\itt  less 
tender  than  befor.  Por  fellow,  por  fellow !  he  really  loved  this 
woman.  He  miglit  as  well  have  fohi  in  love  \\\t\\  a  boreconstructor  ! 
He  was  so  blinded  and  beat  by  the  jtower  wich  she  had  got  over 
him,  that  if  she  told  him  black  was  white  he'd  beleavc  it,  or  if  she 
ordered  him  to  commit  murder,  he'd  do  it :  she  Avanted  something 
very  like  it,  I  can  tell  you. 

I've  already  said  ho\\-,  in  the  fust  i)art  of  their  acquaintance, 
master  used  to  latf  at  De  TOrge's  bad  Inglisli,  and  funny  ways.  The 
little  creature  had  a  thowsnd  of  these  ;  and  being  small,  and  a  French- 
man, master,  in  cors,  looked  on  him  with  that  good-humoured  kind 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  305 

of  contemp  ■which  a  good  Brittu  ot  always  to  show.  He  rayther 
treated  him  like  an  intelligent  nninky  than  a  man,  and  ordered  him 
about  as  if  he'd  bean  my  Lady's  footman. 

All  this  munseer  took  in  very  good  part,  until  after  tlie  quarl 
betwigst  master  and  Lady  Gritfin  ;  when  that  lady  took  care  to  turn 
tlie  tables.  Whenever  master  and  miss  were  not  jjresent  (as  I've 
heard  the  servants  say),  she  used  to  laff  at  Shevalliay  I'or  liis  obeajance 
and  sivillatty  to  master.  For  her  part,  she  wondered  how  a  man  of 
his  birth  could  act  a  servnt :  how  any  man  could  submit  to  such  con- 
temsheous  behaviour  from  another;  and  then  she  tokl  him  how 
Deuceace  was  always  suearing  at  him  behind  his  back  ;  how,  in  fact, 
he  ought  to  hate  him  corjaly,  and  how  it  Avas  suttnly  time  to  show 
his  sperrit. 

Well,  the  poar  little  man  beleaved  all  this  from  his  hart,  and 
was  angry  or  pleased,  gentle  or  quarlsum,  igsactly  as  my  Lady  liked. 
There  got  to  be  frequint  rows  betwigst  liiin  and  master ;  sharji  words 
flung  at  each  otlier  across  the  dinner-table ;  dispewts  about  handing 
ladies  their  smeling-botls,  or  seeing  them  to  their  carridge  ;  or  going 
in  and  out  of  a  roam  fust,  or  any  such  nonsince. 

"  For  hevn's  sake,"  I  heerd  my  Ladj',  in  the  midl  of  one  of  these 
tiffs,  say,  pail,  and  the  tears  trembling  in  her  i's,  "  do,  do  be  calm, 
Mr.  Deuceace.  Monsieur  de  I'Orge,  I  beseech  you  to  forgive  him. 
You  are,  both  of  you,  so  esteemed,  lov'd,  by  members  of  this  family, 
that  for  its  peace  as  w^ell  as  your  own,  you  should  forbear  to 
quarrel," 

It  was  on  the  way  to  the  Sally  Mangy  that  this  brangling  had 
begun,  and  it  ended  jest  as  they  were  seating  themselves.  I  shall 
never  forgit  poar  little  De  I'Orge's  eyes,  when  my  Lady  said  "  both 
of  you,"  He  stair'd  at  my  Lady  for  a  momint,  turned  ]iail,  red, 
look'd  wild,  and  then,  going  round  to  master,  shook  his  hand  as  if  he 
would  have  Avrung  it  off.  Mr.  Deuceace  only  bow'd  and  grin'd, 
and  turned  away  quite  stately;  Miss  heaved  a  lond  0  from  her 
busm,  and  looked  up  in  Ids  face  witli  an  igspreshn  jest  as  if  she 
could  have  eat  him  up  with  love  ;  an<l  tlie  little  Shevalliay_  sate 
down  to  his  soop-plate,  and  wus  so  happy,  that  I'm  blest  if^  he 
wasn't  crying !  He  thought  the  widdow  had  made  her  declyration, 
and  would  have  him ;  and  so  thought  Deuceace,  who  look'd  at  her 
for  some  time  mighty  bitter  and  contempshus,  and  then  fell  a-talking 

with  Miss. 

Now,  though  master  didn't  choose  to  marry  Lady  Griffin,  as  he 
might  have  done,  he  yet  thought  fit  to  be  very  angry  at  the  notion 
of  "her  marrying  anybody  else;  and  so,  consquintly,  was  in  a  fewry 
at  this  confision  wliich  she  had  made  regarding  her  parshaleaty  for 
the  French  Shevaleer. 


3o6     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.   J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

And  this  I've  perseaved  in  the  cors  of  my  expearants  through 
life,  that  ^vheu  you  vex  him,  a  roag's  no  longer  a  roag :  you  find 
him  out  at  oust  when  he's  in  a  passion,  for  he  shows,  as  it  ware, 
his  cloven  foot  the  very  instnt  you  tread  on  it.  At  least,  this  is 
what  young  roags  do ;  it  requires  very  cool  blood  and  long  practis 
to  get  over  this  pint,  and  not  to  show  your  pashn  when  you  feel  it 
and  snarl  when  you  are  angry.  Old  Crabs  wouldn't  do  it;  being  like 
another  noblemin,  of  whom  I  heard  the  Duke  of  Wellington  say,  while 
waiting  behind  his  graci's  chair,  that  if  you  were  kicking  him  from 
behind,  no  one  standing  before  him  would  know  it,  from  the  bcwtifle 
smiling  igspreshu  of  his  face.  Young  master  hadn't  got  so  far  in 
the  thief  s  grammar,  and,  when  he  was  angry,  show'd  it.  And  it's 
also  to  be  remarked  (a  very  i)rofownd  observatin  for  a  footmin,  but 
we  have  i's  though  we  do  wear  plush  britchis),  it's  to  be  remarked, 
I  say,  that  one  of  these  chaps  is  much  sooner  maid  angiy  than 
another,  because  honest  men  yield  to  other  people,  roags  never  do ; 
honest  men  love  other  people,  roags  only  themselves;  and  the 
slightest  thing  which  comes  in  the  way  of  thir  beloved  objects  sets 
them  fewrious.  Master  hadn't  led  a  life  of  gambling,  swindling, 
and  every  kind  of  debotch  to  be  good-tempered  at  the  end  of  it,  I 
prommis  you. 

He  was  in  a  pashun,  and  when  he  teas  in  a  pashn,  a  more 
insalent,  insuffrable,  overbearing  broot  didn't  live. 

This  was  the  very  pint  to  which  my  Lady  wished  to  bring  him ; 
for  I  must  tell  you,  that  though  she  had  been  trying  all  her  might 
to  set  master  and  the  Shevalliay  by  the  years,  she  haxl  suxeaded 
only  so  far  as  to  make  them  liate  each  other  profowndly  :  but 
somehow  or  other,  the  2  cox  wouldn't /^/Ai. 

I  doan't  think  Deuceace  ever  suspected  any  game  on  the  part 
of  her  Ladyship,  for  she  carried  it  on  so  admirally,  that  the  quarls 
which  daily  took  place  betwigst  him  and  the  Frenchman  never 
seemed  to  come  from  lier ;  on  the  coutry,  she  acted  as  the  reglar 
pease-maker  between  them,  as  I've  just  shown  in  the  tiff  which 
took  place  at  the  door  of  the  Sally  Mang}\  Besides,  the  2  young 
men,  though  reddy  enough  to  snarl,  were  natrally  unwilling  to  cum 
to  bloes.  Ill  tell  you  why  :  being  friends,  and  idle,  they  spent 
their  mornins  as  young  fashuabbles  genrally  do,  at  biUiads,  fensing, 
riding,  pistle-shooting,  or  some  such  imjirooving  study.  In  bilHads, 
master  beat  the  Frenchmn  hollow  (and  had  won  a  pretious  siglit  of 
money  from  him  :  but  that's  neither  here  nor  there,  or,  as  the 
French  say,  ontry  noo) ;  at  pistle-shooting,  master  could  knock 
down  eight  immidges  out  of  ten,  and  De  I'Orge  seven ;  and  in 
fensing,  the  Frenchman  could  pink  tlie  Honorable  Algernon  down 
evry  one  of  his  weskit  buttns.     They'd  each  of  tliem  been  out  more 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  307 

than  oust,  for  every  Frenchman  will  fight,  and  master  had  been 
obleag'd  to  do  so  in  the  cors  of  his  bisniss;  and  knowing  each 
other's  curridg,  as  well  as  the  fact  that  either  could  put  a  hundrid 
bolls  running  into  a  liat  at  30  yards,  they  waini't  very  willing  to 
try  such  exparrymence  upon  their  own  hats  with  their  own  heads 
in  them.  So  you  see  they  kep  quiet,  and  only  grould  at  each 
other. 

But  to-day  Deuceace  was  in  one  of  his  thundering  black  humers  ; 
and  when  in  this  way  he  wouldn't  stop  for  man  or  devvle.  I  said 
that  he  walked  away  from  the  Shevalliay,  who  had  given  him  I  lis 
hand  in  his  sudden  bust  of  joyfle  good-humour;  and  who,  I  do 
bleave,  would  have  hugd  a  she-bear,  so  very  happy  was  he.  Master 
walked  away  from  him  pale  and  hotty,  and,  taking  his  seat  at  table, 
no  moor  mindid  the  brandishments  of  Miss  Griffin,  but  only  re])]icd 
to  them  with  a  pshaw,  or  a  dam  at  one  of  us  servnts,  or  abuse  of 
the  soop,  or  the  wine ;  cussing  and  swearing  like  a  trooper,  and  not 
like  a  wel-bred  son  of  a  noble  British  peer. 

"Will  your  Ladyshiii,"  says  he,  slivering  otf  the  wing  of  apully 
ally  bashymall,  "  allow  me  to  help  you  1 " 

"  I  thank  you !  no ;  but  I  will  trouble  Monsieur  de  TOrge." 
And  towards  that  gnlmn  she  turned,  with  a  most  tender  and  fasnat- 
ing  smile. 

"  Your  Ladyship  has  taken  a  very  sudden  admiration  for  Mr. 
de  I'Orge's  carving.     You  used  to  like  mine  once." 

"  You  are  very  skilful ;  but  to-day,  if  you  will  allow  me,  I  will 
partake  of  something  a  little  simpler." 

The  Frenchman  helped ;  and,  being  so  happy,  in  cors,  spilt  tlie 
gravy.  A  great  blob  of  brown  sos  spurted  on  to  master's  chick, 
and  myandrewd  d(3wn  his  shert  collar  and  virging-white  weskit. 

"  Confound  you  !  "  says  he,  "  M.  de  I'Orge,  you  have  done  this 
on  purpose."  And  down  went  his  knife  and  fork,  over  went  his 
tumbler  of  wine,  a  deal  of  it  into  poar  Miss  Griffinses  lap,  who 
looked  fritened  and  ready  to  cry. 

My  Lady  bust  into  a  fit  of  laffin,  peel  upon  peel,  as  if  it  was 
the  best  joak  in  the  world.  De  I'Orge  giggled  and  grin'd  too. 
"  Pardong,"  says  he  ;  "  meal  pardong,  mong  share  munseer."  *  And 
he  looked  as  if  he  would  have  done  it  again  for  a  penny. 

The  little  Frenchman  was  quite  in  extasis  ;  he  found  himself  all 
of  a  suddn  at  the  very  top  of  the  trea ;  and  the  laif  for  oust  turned 
against  his  rivle  :  he  actialy  had  the  ordassaty  to  propose  to  my 
Lady  in  English  to  take  a  glass  of  wine. 

"  Veal  you,"  says  he,  in  his  jargin,  "  take  a  glas  of  Madere  viz 

*  In  the  long  dialogues,  wo  have  generally  ventured  to  change  the  peculiar 
spelling  of  our  friend  Mr.  Yellowplush. 


3o8     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.  J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

me,  mi  Ladi  1 "  And  he  looked  round,  as  if  he'd  igsackly  hit  the 
English  manner  and  pronunciation. 

"With  the  greatest  pleasure,"  says  Lady  G.,  most  graciously 
nodding  at  him,  and  gazing  at  him  as  she  drank  up  the  wine.  She'd 
refused  master  before,  and.  this  didn't  increase  his  good  humer. 

Well,  they  went  on,  master  snarling,  snapping,  and  swearing, 
making  himself,  I  must  confess,  as  much  of  a  blaggard  as  any  I 
ever  see ;  and  my  Lady  employing  lier  time  betwigst  him  and  the 
Shevalliay,  doing  every  think  to  irritate  master,  and  flatter  the 
Frenchmn.  Desert  came :  and  by  this  time.  Miss  was  stock-stiU 
witli  fright,  the  Chevaleer  half  tipsy  with  pleasure  and  gratafied 
vannaty,  my  Lady  pufiicldy  raygent  witli  smiles,  and  master  bloc 
witli  rage. 

"  ]\Ir.  Deuceace,"  says  my  Lady,  in  a  most  winning  voice,  after 
a  little  chaffing  (in  which  she  only  worked  him  up  moar  and  moar), 
"may  I  trouble  you  for  a  few  of  those  grapes?  they  look  delicious." 

For  answer,  master  seas'd  hold  of  the  .grayp  disli,  and  sent  it 
sliding  down  tlie  table  to  Be  I'Orge ;  upsetting,  in  his  way,  fruit- 
plates,  glasses,  dickauters,  and  Heaven  knows  what. 

"  Monsieur  de  I'Orge,"  says  he,  shouting  out  at  the  top  of  his 
voice,  "  have  the  goodness  to  help  Lady  Griffin.  She  wanted  mi/ 
grapes  long  ago,  and  has  found  out  they  are  sour  !  " 

•  «••••• 

There  was  a  dead  paws  of  a  moment  or  so. 

"  Ah  !  "  says  my  Lady,  "  vous  osez  m'insulter,  devant  mes  gens, 
dans  ma  propre  maison — c'est  par  trop  fort,  monsieur."  And  up 
she  45ot,  and  ffung  out  of  the  room.  Miss  followed  her,  screecliing 
out,  "  Mamma — for  God's  sake — Lady  Griffin  !  "  and  here  the  door 
slammed  on  tlic  pair. 

Her  Ladyship  did  very  well  to  speak  Frencli.  De  VOrge  would 
not  have  understood  her  else  ;  as  it  was  he  heard  quite  enough  ;  and 
as  the  door  clikt  too,  in  the  presents  of  me,  and  Messeers  Mortimer 
and  Fitzclarence,  the  family  footmen,  he  walks  round  to  my  master, 
and  hits  him  a  slap  on  tlie  face,  and  says,  "  Prends  ca,  menteur  et 
lache  !  "  which  means,  "  Take  that,  you  liar  and  coward  ! " — rayther 
strong  igspreshns  for  one  genlmn  to  use  to  another. 

Master  staggered  back  and  looked  bewildered ;  and  then  he 
gave  a  kind  of  a  scream,  and  then  he  made  a  run  at  the  Frenchman, 
and  then  me  and  Mortimer  flung  ourselves  upon  him,  whilst  Fitz- 
clarence embraced  the  Shevalliay. 

"A  demaiu  ! "  says  he,  clinching  his  little  fist,  and  walking 
fi,way,  not  very  sorry  to  git  ofi: 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  309 

When  he  was  fairly  down  stares,  we  let  go  of  master :  who 
swallowed  a  goblit  of  water,  and  tlien  pawsing  a  little  and  pulling 
out  his  pus,  he  presented  to  Messeers  Mortimer  and  Fitzclarence  a 
luydor  each.  "  I  will  give  you  five  more  to-morrow,"  says  he,  "  if 
you  will  i^romise  to  keep  this  secrit." 

And  then  he  walked  in  to  the  ladies.  "  If  you  knew,"  says  lie, 
going  up  to  Lady  Griffin,  and  speaking  very  slow  (in  cors  we  Avcre 
all  at  the  keyhole),  "  the  pain  I  have  endured  in  the  last  minute,  in 
consequence  of  the  rudeness  and  insolence  of  whicli  I  have  been 
guilty  to  your  Ladyship,  you  Avould  think  my  own  remorse  was 
punishment  suflicicnt,  and  would  grant  me  pardon.'' 

My  Lady  bowed,  and  said  she  didn't  wish  for  explanations. 
Mr.  Deuceace  was  her  daughter's  guest,  and  not  hers ;  but  she 
certainly  would  never  demean  herself  by  sitting  again  at  table  with 
him.     And  so  saying,  out  she  boltid  again. 

"  Oh  !  Algernon  !  Algernon  !  "  says  Miss,  in  teers,  "  what  is 
this  dreadful  mystery — these  fearful  sliocking  quarrels'?  Tell  me, 
has  anything  happened  1     Where,  where  is  the  Chevalier  1 " 

Master  smiled  and  said,  "  Be  under  no  alarm,  my  sweetest 
Matilda.  De  I'Orge  did  not  understand  a  word  of  the  dispute  ;  he 
was  too  much  in  love  for  that.  He  is  but  gone  aAvay  for  lialf-an- 
hoiu-,  I  believe ;  and  will  return  to  coff'ee." 

I  knew  what  master's  game  was,  for  if  Miss  had  got  a  hinkling 
of  the  quarrel  betwigst  him  and  the  Frenchman,  Ave  should  have 
had  her  screeming  at  the  "  HGtel  Mirabeu,"  and  the  juice  and  all  to 
pay.  He  only  stopt  for  a  few  miimits  and  cumfitted  her,  and  then 
drove  off  to  his  friend.  Captain  Bullseye,  of  the  Rifles  ;  witli  Avhom, 
I  spose,  he  talked  over  this  unplesnt  bisniss.  We  fownd,  at  our 
hotel,  a  note  from  Do  I'Orge,  saying  wliere  his  secknd  was  to  be  seen. 

Two  mornings  after  there  Avas  a  parr()Avgraf  in  Gallynanni/s 
Messinger,  which  I  hear  beg  leaf  to  transcrilic  : — 

^^  Fearful  dud. — Yesterday  morning,  at  six  o'clock,  a  meeting 
took  place,  in  the  Bois  de  Boulogne,  betAveen  the  Hon.  A.  P. 
D_ce-ce,  a  vounger  son  of  the  Earl  of  Cr-bs,  and  the  Clievalier  de 

I'O .     The  chevalier  Avas  attended  by  Major  de  M ,  of  the 

Royal  Guard,  and  the  Hon.  Mr.  D by  Cai-tain  B-Us-ye,  of 

the  British  Rifle  Corps.  As  far  as  we  have  been  able  to  learn  the 
particulars  of  this  deplorable  afiair,  the  dispute  oi-iginatcd  m  the 
house  of  a  lovely  lady  (one  of  the  most  brilliant  urnameiits  ot  our 
embassv),  and  tlie  duel  took  place  on  the  morning  ensuing. 

"  The  chevalier  (the  challenged  party,  and  the  most  accomplished 
amateur  swordsman  in  Paris)  waived  his  right  of  choosing  the 
weapons,  and  the  comljat  took  place  Avith  pistols. 

34 


3IO     ME.MOIRS    OF    MR.   C.  J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

"  Tlie  combatants  were  placed  at  forty  paces,  with  directions  to 
advance  to  a  barrier  which  separated  them  only  eight  paces.     Each 

was  furnished  with  two  pistols.     Monsieur  de  TO fired  almost 

immediately,  and  the  ball  took  effect  in  the  left  wrist  of  his  anta- 
gonist, who  dropped  the  pistol  which  he  held  in  that  hand.  He 
fired,  however,  directly  Tvith  his  right,  and  the  chevalier  fell  to  the 
ground,  we  fear  mortally  wounded.  A  ball  has  entered  above  his 
hip-joint,  and  there  is  very  little  hope  that  he  can  recover. 

"  We  have  heard  that  tlie  cause  of  this  desperate  duel  was  a 
blow  which  the  chevalier  \entured  to  give  to  the  Hon  Mr.  D.  If 
so,  thei'e  is  some  reason  for  the  unusual  and  determined  manner  in 
which  the  duel  was  fought. 

"Mr.  Deu — a-e  returned  to  his  hotel;  whither  his  excellent 
father,  the  Right  Hon.  Earl  of  Cr-bs,  immediately  hastened  on 
hearing  of  the  sad  news,  and  is  now  bestowing  on  his  son  the  most 
affectionate  parental  attention.  Tlie  news  only  reached  his  Lordship 
3*esterday  at  noon,  while  at  breakfast  with  his  Excellency  Lord 
Bobtail,  our  Ambassador.  The  noble  earl  fainted  on  receiving  the 
intelligence ;  but  in  spite  of  the  shock  to  his  ovm  nerves  and  health, 
persisted  in  passing  last  night  by  the  couch  of  his  son." 

And  so  he  did.  "This  is  a  sad  business,  Charles,"  says  my 
Lord  to  me,  after  seeing  his  son,  and  settling  himself  down  in  our 
salong.  "  Have  you  any  scgars  in  the  house  ?  And,  hark  ye,  send 
me  up  a  bottle  of  wine  and  some  luncheon.  I  can  certainly  not 
leave  the  neighbourhood  of  my  dear  boy." 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE    CONSQUINSIES 

THE  Shevalliay  did  not  die,  for  the  ball  came  out  of  its  own 
accord,  in  the  midst  of  a  violent  fever  and  inflamayshn  which 
was  brot  on  by  the  wound.  He  was  kept  in  bed  for  6  weeks 
though,  and  did  not  recover  for  a  long  time  after. 

As  f(^r  master,  his  lot,  I'm  sorry  to  say,  was  wuss  than  that  of 
his  advisary.  Inflammation  came  on  too ;  and,  to  make  an  ugly 
story  short,  they  were  oltliged  to  take  oS  his  hand  at  the  rist. 

He  bore  it,  in  cors,  like  a  Trojin,  and  in  a  month  he  too  was 
well,  and  his  wound  heel'd ;  but  I  never  see  a  man  look  so  like  a 
devvle  as  he  used  sometimes,  wdien  he  looked  down  at  the 
stump  ! 

To  be  sure,  in  Miss  Griffinses  eyes,  this  only  indeerd  him  the 
mor.  She  sent  twenty  noats  a  day  to  ask  for  him,  calling  him  her 
beloved,  her  unfortunat,  her  hero,  her  wictim,  and  I  dono  what. 
I've  kep  some  of  the  noats  as  I  tell  you,  and  curiously  sentimcntle 
they  are,  beating  the  sorrows  of  MacAVhirter  all  to  nothing. 

Old  Crabs  used  to  come  often,  and  consumed  a  power  of  wine 
and  seagars  at  our  house.  I  bleave  he  was  at  Paris  because  there 
was  an  exycution  in  his  own  house  in  England ;  and  his  son  Avas  a 
sure  find  (as  they  say)  during  his  illness,  and  couldn't  deny  himself 
to  the  old  genlran.  His  eveninx  my  Lord  spent  reglar  at  Lady 
Griffin's ;  where,  as  master  was  ill,  I  didn't  go  any  more  now,  and 
where  the  Shevalier  wasn't  there  to  disturb  him. 

"  You  see  how  that  woman  hates  you,  Deuceace,"  says  my  Lord, 
one  day,  in  a  fit  of  cander,  after  they  had  been  talking  about  Lady 
Griffin  :   "  she  has  not  done  with  you  yet,  I  tell  you  fairly." 

"  Curse  her,"  says  master,  in  a  fury,  lifting  up  his  maim'd  arm — 
"  curse  her !  but  I  -nail  be  even  with  her  one  day.  I  am  sure  of 
Matilda :  I  took  care  to  put  that  beyond  the  reach  of  a  failure. 
The  girl  must  marry  me,  for  her  own  sake." 

"For  her  own  sake!  0  ho!  Good,  good!"  My  Lord  lifted 
his  i's,  and  said  gravely,  "I  understand,  my  dear  boy:  it  is  an 
excellent  plan." 

"Well,"  says  master,  grinning  fearcely  and  knowingly  at  his 


312     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.  J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

exlent  old  father,  "as  the  girl  is  safe,  what  harm  can  I  fear  from 
the  fiend  of  a  stepmother  ?  " 

My  Lord  only  gev  a  long  whizzle,  and,  soon  after,  taking  np  his 
hat,  walked  oft".  I  saw  him  sawnter  down  the  Plas  Yandome,  and 
go  in  quite  calmly  to  the  old  door  of  Lady  Griffinses  hotel.  Bless 
his  old  face  !  such  a  puffickly  good-natured,  kind-hearted,  merry, 
selfish  old  scoundrel,  I  never  shall  see  again. 

His  Lordship  was  quite  right  in  saying  to  master  that  "  Lady 
Griflin  hadn't  done  with  him.'"'  No  moar  she  liad.  But  she  never 
would  have  thought  of  the  nex  game  she  was  going  to  play,  if  sonie- 
hodtj  hadnH  put  her  nj}  to  it.  Wlio  did  1  If  you  red  the  above 
passidge,  and  saw  how  a  venrabble  old  genlmn  took  Ids  hat,  and 
sauntered  do\vn  the  Plas  Yandome  (looking  hard  and  kind  at  all 
the  nussary-maids^/yi/iis  they  call  them  in  France — in  the  way),  I 
leave  you  to  guess  who  was  tlie  autlior  of  tlie  nex  sclieam  :  a  wcunan, 
suttnly,  never  Avould  have  pitcht  on  it. 

In  the  fuss  payper  which  I  wrote  concerning  Mr.  Deuceace's  ad- 
venters,  and  his  kind  hchayviour  to  Messrs.  Dawkins  and  Blewitt, 
I  liad  the  honour  of  laying  before  the  public  a  skidewl  of  my  master's 
detts,  in  witch  was  the  folloAving  itim — 

"BiUs  of  xchange  and  LO.U.'s,  £49G3,  Os.  Od." 

The  I.O.U.se  were  trifling,  saying  a  thowsnd  pound.  The  bills 
amountid  to  four  thowsnd  moar. 

Now,  the  lor  is  in  France,  that  if  a  genlmn  gives  these  in 
England,  and  a  French  genlmn  gits  them  in  any  way,  he  can  pursew 
the  Englishman  who  has  drawn  vhem,  even  though  lie  should  be  in 
France.  jMaster  did  not  kno\y  this  fact — labouring  under  a  very 
common  mistak,  that,  when  onst  out  of  England,  he  might  wissle  at 
all  the  debts  he  left  behind  Inni. 

My  Lady  Griflin  sent  over  to  her  slissators  in  London,  who 
made  arrangemints  witli  the  pei-sons  who  possest  the  fine  collection 
of  ortografs  on  stampt  paper  which  master  had  left  behind  him  ; 
and  thiy  were  glad  enufl"  to  take  any  oppertunity  of  getting  back 
their  money. 

Onejfine  morning,  as  I  was  looking  about  in  the  courtyard  of 
our  hotel,  talking  to  the  servant-gals,  as  was  my  reglar  custom,  in 
order  to  improve  myself  in  the  French  languidge,  one  of  them  comes 
up  to  me  and  says,  "  Tenez,  I\I(!nsicur  Charles,  down  below  in  the 
office  there  is  a  bailiff*,  with  a  couple  of  gendarmes,  who  is  asking 
for  your  master — a-t-il  dcs  dettes  par  liasard  ? " 

I  was  struck  all  of  a  heap — the  truth  flasht  on  my  mind's  hi. 
"  Toinette,"  says  I,  for  that  was  the  gal's  name — *'  Toinettc,"  saya 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  313 

I,  giving  lier  a  kiss,  "  keep  tliem  for  two  minnits,  as  you  valyou  my 
affecksliun ; "  and  then  I  gave  lier  another  kiss,  and  ran  up  stares  to 
our  cliambers.  Master  had  now  pretty  well  recovered  of  his  wound, 
and  was  aloud  to  drive  abowt :  it  was  lucky  for  him  that  he  had 
the  strength  to  move.  "Sir,  sir,"  says  I,  "the  Lailitt's  are  after 
you,  and  you  must  run  for  your  life." 

"  Bailiffs  ? "  says  he  :  "  nonsense  !  I  don't,  thank  Heaven,  owe 
a  shilling  to  any  man." 

"Stuff,  sir,"  says  I,  forgetting  my  respeck  ;  '"don't  you  owe 
money  in  England  ?  I  tell  you  the  bailifts  are  here,  and  will  be  on 
you  in  a  moment." 

As  I  sjioke,  cling  cling,  ling  ling,  goes  the  bell  of  the  anty- 
sharaber,  and  there  they  were  sure  enough  ! 

What  was  to  be  done  1  Quick  as  litening,  I  throws  off  my  livry 
coat,  clajis  my  goold  lace  hat  on  master's  head,  and  makes  him  put 
on  my  livry.  Then  I  wraps  myself  np  in  his  dressing-gown,  and 
lolling  down  on  the  sofa,  bids  him  open  the  dor. 

There  they  were — the  bailiff — two  jondarms  with  him — Toin- 
ette,  and  an  old  waiter.  "When  Toinette  sees  master,  slie  smiles, 
and  says  :  "  Dis  done,  Charles  !  oii  est  done  ton  maitre  ?  Chez  lui, 
n'cst-cc  pas  ?  C'est  le  jcune  homme  li  monsieur,"  says  she,  curtsying 
to  the  bailiff". 

The  old  waiter  was  just  a-going  to  blurt  out,  "  Mais  ce  n'est 
pas  !"  when  Toinette  stops  him,  and  says,  "Laissez  done  passer  ces 
messieurs,  vieux  bete ; "  and  in  they  walk,  the  2  jon  d'arms  taking 
th-jir  post  in  the  hall. 

Master  throws  open  the  salong  dear  very  gravely,  and  touching 
■mij  liat  says,  "  Have  you  any  orders  al)out  the  cab,  sir  1 " 

"Why,  no,  Chawls,"  says  I ;  "I  shan't  drive  out  to-day." 

The  old  bailiff'  grinned,  for  he  understood  English  (having  had 
plenty  of  English  customers),  and  says  in  French,  as  master  goes 
out,  "  I  think,  sir,  you  had  better  let  your  servant  get  a  coach,  for 
I  am  under  the  painful  necessity  of  arresting  you,  au  nom  de  la  loi, 
for  the  sum  of  ninety-eight  thousand  seven  hundred  francs,  owed 
by  you  to  the  Sieur  Jacques  Franc^ois  Lebrun,  of  Paris ; "  and  he 
pulls  out  a  number  of  bills,  with  master's  acceptances  on  them 
sure  enough. 

"  Take  a  chair,  sir,"  says  I ;  and  down  he  sits ;  and  I  began  to 
chaff"  him,  as  well  as  I  could,  about  the  weatlier,  my  inness,_my  sad 
axdent,  having  lost  one  of  my  hands,  which  was  stuck  into  my 
busum,  and  so  on. 

At  last  after  a  minnit  or  two,  I  could  contane  no  longer,  and 

bust  out  in  a  horse  laff". 

The  old  fellow  turned  quite  pail,  and  began  to  suspect  some- 


31+     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.   J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

think,  "  Hola  !  "  says  he  ;  "  gendarmes  !  k  moi !  k  moi !  Je  suis 
floud,  vol^,"  which  means,  in  English,  that  he  was  reglar  sold. 

The  jondarmes  jumped  into  the  room,  and  so  did  Toinette  and 
the  waiter.  Grascfly  rising  from  my  arm-chare,  I  took  my  hand 
from  my  dressing-gownd,  and,  flinging  it  open,  stuck  uj)  on  the 
chair  one  of  the  neatest  legs  ever  seen. 

I  then  pinted  myjestickly— to  what  do  you  think  ? — to  my  plush 
TiTES !  these  scllabrated  inigspressables  which  have  rendered  me 
famous  in  Yourope. 

Taking  the  hint,  the  jondarraes  and  the  servnts  rord  out  laffing ; 
and  so  did  Charles  Yell()wi)lush,  Esquire,  I  can  tell  you.  Old 
Grippard  the  bailitf  looked  as  if  he  would  faint  in  his  chare. 

I  heard  a  kab  galloping  like  mad  out  of  the  hotel-gate,  and 
knew  then  that  ray  master  was  safe. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  EXD   OF  MR.   DEUCE  ACES  HISTORY-LIMBO 

MY  tail  is  droring  rabidly  to  a  close  :  my  suvvice  with  Mr. 
Deuceace  didn't  contiuyou  very  long  after  the  last  chapter, 
in  which  I  described  my  admiral  strattyjam,  and  my  singlar 
self-devocean.  Tliere's  very  few  servnts,  I  can  tell  you,  who'd  have 
thought  of  such  a  contrivance,  and  very  few  moar  would  have  egg- 
sycuted  it  when  thought  of. 

But,  after  all,  beyond  the  trifling  advantich  to  myself  in  selling 
master's  roab  de  sham,  which  you,  gentle  reader,  may  remember  I 
woar,  and  in  dixcovering  a  fipun  note  in  one  of  the  pockets, — beyond 
this,  I  say,  there  w^as  to  poar  master  very  little  advantich  in  what 
had  been  done.  It's  true  he  had  escaped.  Very  good.  But  Frans 
is  not  like  Great  Brittiu ;  a  man  in  a  livry  coat,  with  1  arm,  is 
pretty  easly  known,  and  caught,  too,  as  I  can  tell  you. 

Such  was  the  case  with  master.  He  coodn  leave  Paris,  moar- 
over,  if  he  would.  Wliat  was  to  become,  in  that  case,  of  his  bride 
- — his  unchbacked  hairis  ?  He  knew  that  young  lady's  temprimong 
(as  the  Parishers  say)  too  well  to  let  her  long  out  of  his  site.  She 
had  nine  thousand  a  yer.  Siie'd  been  in  love  a  duzn  times  befor,  and 
mite  be  agin.  The  Honrabble  Algernon  Deuceace  was  a  little  too 
Avide  awake  to  trust  much  to  the  constnsy  of  so  very  inflammable 
a  young  creacher.  Heavn  bless  us,  it  was  a  marycle  she  wasn't 
earlier  married  !  I  do  bleave  (from  suttn  scans  that  past  betwigst 
us)  that  she'd  have  married  me,  if  she  hadn't  been  sejuiced  by  the 
supearor  rank  and  indianuity  of  tlie  genlmn  in  whose  survace  I  was. 

Well,  to  use  a  commin  igspreshn,  the  beaks  were  after  him. 
How  was  he  to  manitch  %  He  coodn  get  away  from  his  debts,  and 
he  wooden  quit  the  fare  objict  of  his  affeckshns.  He  was  ablccjd, 
then,  as  the  French  say,  to  lie  perdew, — going  out  at  night,  like  a 
howl  out  of  a  hivy-bush,  and  returning  in  the  daytime  to  liis  roast 
For  its  a  maxum  in  France  (and  I  wood  it  were  followed  in  Ingiand), 
that  after  dark  no  man  is  lible  for  his  detts ;  and  in  any  of  the 
Eoyal  gardens— the  Twillaries,  the  Pally  Roil,  or  the  Lucksimbug, 
for  example — a  man  may  wander  from  sunrise  to  evening,  and  hear 
nothing  of  the  ojus  dunns  :  they  ain't  admitted  into  these  places  of 


3i6     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.  C.  J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

public  enjyment  and  rondyvoo  any  more  than  dogs ;  the  centuries 
at  the  garden-gate  having  orders  to  shuit  all  such. 

Master,  then,  was  in  this  uncomfrable  situation — neither  liking 
to  go  nor  to  stay  !  peeping  out  at  nights  to  have  an  interview  with 
his  miss ;  ableagd  to  shuffle  off  her  repeated  questions  as  to  the 
reason  of  all  this  disgeise,  and  to  talk  of  his  two  thowsnd  a  year 
jest  as  if  he  had  it  and  didn't  owe  a  shilling  in  the  world. 

Of  course,  now,  he  began  to  grow  mighty  eager  for  the  marritch. 

He  roat  as  many  noats  as  she  had  done  befor ;  swoar  against 
delay  and  cerymony  ;  talked  of  the  pleasures  of  Hyming,  tlie  ardship 
that  the  ardor  of  two  arts  shoidd  be  allowed  to  igspire,  the  folly  of 
waiting  for  tlie  consent  of  Lady  Griffin.  She  was  but  a  step-mother, 
and  an  unkind  one.  Miss  was  (he  said)  a  major,  might  marry  whom 
she  liked ;  and  suttnly  had  jiaid  Lady  G.  quite  as  nuich  attention 
as  she  ought,  by  paying  her  tlie  coni{)liment  to  ask  her  at  all. 

And  so  they  went  on.  Tlic  curious  thing  was,  that  when  master 
was  pressed  about  his  cause  for  not  coming  out  till  night-time,  he 
was  misterus  ;  and  M'ss  Griffin,  when  a-sked  why  she  wooden  marry, 
igsprest,  or  rather,  didn't  igspress,  a  sindar  secra.sy.  Wasn't  it  hard? 
tlie  cup  seemed  to  be  at  the  lip  of  both  of  'em,  and  yet  somehow, 
they  could  not  manitch  to  take  a  drink. 

But  one  morning,  in  rejjly  to  a  most  desprat  epistol  wrote  by 
my  master  over  night,  Deuoeace,  delighted,  gits  an  answer  from  his 
soal's  beluffd,  which  ran  thus  : — 

Miss  Griffin  to  the  lion.  A.  P.  Deuceace. 

"  Dearest, — You  say  you  would  share  a  cottage  with  me ; 
there  is  no  need,  luckily,  for  that !  You  plead  the  sad  sinking  of 
your  spirits  at  our  delayeil  union.  Beloved,  do  you  think  /hi/  heart 
rejoices  at  oiu:  separation?  You  bid  me  disregard  the  refusal  of 
Lady  Griffin,  and  tell  me  that  I  owe  her  no  further  duty, 

"  Adored  Algernon  !  I  can  refuse  you  no  more.  I  was  willing 
not  to  lose  a  single  chance  of  reconciliation  with  this  unnatural 
step-mother.  Respect  for  the  memory  of  my  sainted  father  bid  me 
do  all  in  my  ]iowcr  to  gain  her  consent  to  my  union  with  you ;  nay, 
shall  i  own  it  ?  prudence  dictated  the  measure  ;  for  to  whom  should 
she  leave  the  share  of  money  accorded  to  her  by  my  father's  will 
but  to  my  father's  child  ? 

"  But  there  are  bounds  beyond  which  no  forbearance  can  go ; 
and,  thank  Heaven,  we  have  no  need  of  looking  to  Lady  Griffin  for 
sordid  wealth  :  we  have  a  competency  without  her.  Is  it  not  so, 
dearest  Algernon  1 

"  Be  it  as  you  wish  then,  dearest,  bravest,  and  best.    Your  poor 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUvJEACE  317 

Matilda  has  yielded  to  you  her  heart  long  ago ;  she  has  no  longer 
need  to  keep  back  her  name.  Name  the  hour,  and  I  will  delay  "no 
more ;  but  seek  for  refuge  in  your  arms  from  the  contumely  and 
insult  which  meet  me  ever  here.  Matilda., 

"^•'^'•— Oh,  Algernon  !  if  you  did  but  know  wliat  a  noble  i)art 
your  dear  father  has  acted  througliout,  in  doing  his  best  endeavours 
to  further  our  plans,  and  to  soften  Lady  Griffin  !  It  is  not  his  fault 
that  she  is  inexorable  as  she  is.  I  send  you  a  note  sent  by  her  to 
Lord  Crabs ;  we  will  laugh  at  it  soon,  n'est-ce  pas  ?  " 

II 

"  My  Lord,— In  reply  to  your  demand  for  Miss  Griffin's  hand, 
in  favour  of  your  son,  Mr.  Algernon  Deuceace,  I  can  only  repeat 
what  I  before  have  been  under  the  necessity  of  stating  to  you — that 
I  do  not  believe  a  union  with  a  person  of  Mr.  Deuceace's  character 
would  conduce  to  my  step-daughter's  happiness,  and  therefore  refuse 
my  consent.  I  will  beg  you  to  communicate  the  contents  of  this 
note  to  Mr.  Deuceace ;  and  implore  you  no  more  to  touch  upon  a 
subject  which  you  must  be  aware  is  deeply  painful  to  me. — I  remain 
your  Lordship's  most  humble  servant,  L.  E.  Griffin. 

"  The  Right  Hon.  the  Earl  vf  Crabs." 

"  Hang  her  Ladyship  !  "  says  my  master,  "  what  care  I  for  it  ? " 
As  for  the  old  lord  who'd  been  so  afishous  in  his  kindness  and  advice, 
master  recknsiled  that  pretty  well,  with  thinking  that  his  Lordship 
knew  he  was  going  to  marry  ten  thousand  a  year,  and  igspected  to 
get  some  share  of  it ;  for  he  roat  back  the  following  letter  to  his 
father,  as  well  as  a  flaming  one  to  Miss  : — 

"Thank  you,  my  dear  father,  for  your  kindness  in  that  awk- 
ward business.  You  know  how  painfully  I  am  situated  just  now, 
and  can  pretty  well  guess  both  the  causes  of  my  disquiet.  A 
marriage  with  my  belo^•ed  Matilda  will  make  me  the  happiest  of 
men.  The  dear  girl  consents,  and  laughs  at  the  foolish  pretensions 
of  her  mother-in-law.  To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  wonder  she  yielded 
to  them  so  long.  Carry  your  kindness  a  step  further,  and  lind  for 
us  a  parson,  a  licence,  and  make  us  two  into  one.  Wc  are  both 
major,  you  know ;  so  that  the  ceremony  of  a  guardian's  consent  is 
unnecessary. — Your  aftectionate,  Algernon  Deuceace." 

"  How  I  regret  that  difference  between  us  some  time  back  ! 
Matters  are  changed  now,  and  shall  be  more  still  a/te7-  the  marriage," 


3i8     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.  J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

I  kuew  what  my  master  meant, — that  he  would  give  the  old 
lord  the  money  after  he  was  married  :  and  as  it  was  probble  that 
miss  would  see  the  letter  he  roat,  he  made  it  sucli  as  not  to  let  her 
see  two  clearly  into  his  present  uncorafrable  situation. 

I  took  this  letter  along  with  the  tender  one  for  Miss,  reading 
both  of  'era,  in  course,  by  the  way.  Miss,  on  getting  liers,  gave  an 
inegspressable  look  with  the  white  of  her  i's,  kist  the  letter,  and 
prest  it  to  her  busm.  Lord  Crabs  read  his  quite  calm,  and  then 
they  fell  a-talking  together;  and  told  me  to  wait  awhile,  and  I 
should  git  an  anser. 

After  a  deal  of  counseltation,  my  Lord  brought  out  a  card,  and 
there  was  simply  written  on  it. 


To-morroxc,  at  the  Ambassador's,  at  Twelve. 


"  Carry  that  back  to  your  master,  Chawls,"  says  he,  "  and  bid 
him  not  to  fail." 

You  may  be  sure  I  stept  back  to  him  pretty  (juick,  and  gave 
him  the  canl  and  tlic  messingo.  Master  lonkoil  sattu.sfied  with  lM)th  ; 
but  suttnly  not  over  liappy  ;  no  man  is  the  day  before  his  marridge  ; 
much  more  liis  marridge  with  a  humjiback,  Harriss  though  slio  ha. 

Well,  as  he  was  a-gt»ing  to  depart  tliis  bachelor  life,  lie  did  what 
every  man  in  such  suckmstances  ouglit  to  do :  he  made  his  will, — 
that  is,  he  made  a  dispasition  of  his  property,  and  wrote  letters  to 
his  creditors  tcllini:  them  of  his  lucky  chance  :  and  that  after  his 
marridge  he  would  sutauly  pay  them  every  stiver.  Jk/ore,  they 
must  kntnv  his  povvaty  well  enough  to  be  sure  that  paj-uiiut  was 
out  of  tiie  question. 

To  do  him  justas,  he  .scam'd  to  be  inclined  to  do  the  thing  that 
was  riglit,  now  that  it  didn't  jnit  him  to  any  inkinvenients  to  do  so. 

"  Chawls,"  says  he,  handing  me  over  a  tenpun-notc,  "  here's 
your  wagis,  and  thank  you  for  getting  me  out  of  the  scmpe  with 
the  bailitl's  :  when  we  are  married,  you  shall  be  my  valet  out  of 
liv'ry,  and  I'll  treble  your  salary." 

His  vallit !  prai>s  his  butler  !  Yes,  thought  I,  here's  a  chance 
— a  vallit  to  ten  thousand  a  year.  Nothing  to  do  but  to  shave 
him,  and  read  his  notes,  and  let  my  whiskers  grow;  to  dress  in 
spick  and  span  black,  and  a  clean  shut  per  day;  mutiings  every 
night  in  the  housekeeper's  room  ;  the  pick  of  the  gals  in  the  scr\-ants' 
hall ;  a  chap  to  clean  my  boots  for  me,  and  my  ma.ster's  o[>cra  bone 
reglar  once  a  week.  /  knew  what  a  vallit  was  as  well  as  any 
genlmn  in  ser\ice ;  and  this  I  can  tell  you,  he's  genrally  a  hapier, 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  319 

idler,  handsomer,  mor  genhiinly  man  than  his  master.  He  has 
more  money  to  spend,  for  genlmn  tvill  leave  their  silver  in  their 
waistcoat  pockets ;  more  suxess  among  the  gals ;  as  good  dinners, 
and  as  good  wine — that  is,  if  he's  friends  with  the  butler :  and 
friends  in  corse  they  will  be  if  they  know  which  way  their  interest 
lies. 

But  these  are  only  cassels  in  the  aii-,  what  the  French  call  shutter 
cVEspang.  It  wasn't  roat  in  the  book  of  fate  that  I  was  to  be  Mr. 
Deuceace's  vallit. 

Days  will  pass  at  last — even  days  before  a  wedding  (the  longist 
and  nnpleasantist  day  in  the  whole  of  a  man's  life,  I  can  tell  you, 
excep,  may  be,  the  day  before  his  hanging)  ;  and  at  length  Aroarer 
dawned  on  the  suspicious  morning  which  was  to  unite  in  the  bonds 
of  Hyming  the  Honrable  Algernon  Percy  Deuceace,  Exquire,  and 
Miss  Matilda  Griffin.  My  master's  wardrobe  wasn't  so  rich  as  it 
had  been ;  for  he'd  left  the  whole  of  his  nicknax  and  trumpry  of 
dressing-cases  and  rob  dy  shams,  his  bewtitie  museum  of  varnished 
boots,  his  curous  colleckshn  of  Stulz  and  Staub  coats,  when  he  had 
been  ableaged  to  (piit  so  sudnly  our  pore  dear  lodginx  at  the  Hotel 
Mirabew ;  and  being  incog  at  a  friend's  house,  ad  contentid  himself 
with  ordring  a  coople  of  shoots  of  cloves  from  a  common  tailor,  with 
a  suffisluit  quantaty  of  linning. 

Well,  he  put  on  the  best  of  his  coats — a  blue ;  and  I  thought  it 
my  duty  to  ask  him  whether  he'd  want  his  frock  again  :  he  was 
good-natured  and  said,  "  Take  it  and  be  hanged  to  you."  Half-past 
eleven  o'clock  came,  and  I  was  sent  to  look  out  at  the  door,  if  there 
were  any  suspicious  charicters  (a  precious  good  nose  I  have  to  find 
a  bailiff  out  I  can  tell  you,  and  an  i  which  will  almost  see  one  round 
a  corner) ;  and  presently  a  very  modest  green  glass-coach  droave  up, 
and  in  master  stept.  I  didn't,  in  corse,  appear  on  the  box  ;  because, 
being  known,  my  appearints  nught  have  compromised  master.  But 
I  took  a  short  cut,  and  walked,  as  quick  as  posbil  down  to  the  Rue 
de  Foburg  St.  Honore,  where  his  exlnsy  the  English  ambasdor  lives, 
and  where  marridges  are  always  performed  betwigst  English  folk 
at  Paris. 

There  is,  almost  nex  door  to  the  ambasdor's  hotel,  another  hotel, 
of  that  lo  kind  which  the  French  call  cab])yrays,  or  wine-houses  : 
and  jest  as  master's  green  glass-coach  pulled  up,  another  coach  drove 
off,  out  of  which  came  two  ladies,  whom  I  knew  pretty  well,— 
suftiz,  that  one  had  a  humpback,  and  the  ingenious  reader  will  know 
why  she  came  there ;  the  other  was  poor  Miss  Kicksey,  who  came 
to  see  her  turned  off". 

Well,  master's  glass-coach  droav  up,  jest  as  I  got  within  a  few 
2 


320    MEMOIRS   OF    MR.  C.  J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

yards  of  the  door ;  our  carridge,  I  say,  droav  up,  and  stopt.  Down 
gits  coachmin  to  open  the  door,  and  comes  I  to  give  ]\Ir.  Deuceace 
an  arm,  when — out  of  the  caharay  shoot  four  fellows,  and  draw  up 
betwigst  the  coach  and  embassy  doar ;  two  other  chaps  go  to  the 
other  doar  of  the  carridge,  and,  opening  it,  one  says — "  Rendez-vous, 
Monsieur  Deuceace  !  Je  vous  arrete  au  nom  de  la  loi ! "  (which 
means,  "Get  out  of  that,  Mr.  D.;  you  are  nabbed,  and  no  mistake"). 
Master  turned  gashly  pail,  and  sprung  to  the  other  side  of  the 
coach,  as  if  a  sorpint  had  stung  him.  He  flung  open  the  door,  and 
was  for  making  off  that  way ;  but  he  saw  the  four  chaps  standing 
betwigst  libbarty  and  him.  He  slams  down  the  front  window,  and 
screams  out,  "Fouettez,  cocher!"  (which  means,  "Go  it,  coachmin!"). 
in  a  despert  loud  A'oice  ;  but  coachmin  wooden  go  it,  and  besides  was 
off  his  box. 

The  long  and  short  of  the  matter  was,  that  jest  as  I  came  up  to 
the  door  two  of  the  bums  jumped  into  the  carridge.  I  saw  all ;  I 
knew  my  duty,  and  so  very  mornfly  I  gut  up  behind. 

"Tiens,"  says  one  of  the  chaps  in  the  street;  "c'est  ce  drule 
qui  nous  a  flou^  I'autre  jour."  I  knew  'em,  but  was  too  melumcolly 
to  smile. 

"Oi\  irons-nous  done?"  says  coachmin  to  the  genlmn  who  had 

got  inside. 

A  deep  woice  from  the  intearor  shouted  out,  in  reply  to  the 
coachmin,  '•  A  Saixte  Pelagie  ! " 

And  now,  praps,  I  ot  to  dixcribe  to  you  the  humours  of 
the  prizn  of  Saintc  Pelagie,  which  is  tlie  French  for  Fleat,  or 
Queen's  Bentch :  but  on  this  subject  I'm  rather  shy  of  writ- 
ing, partly  because  the  admiral  Boz  has,  in  the  history  of  Mr. 
Pickwick,  made  such  a  dixcripshun  of  a  prizn,  that  mine  wooden 
read  very  amyousingly  afterwids ;  and,  also,  because,  to  tell  you 
the  truth,  I  didn't  stay  long  in  it,  being  not  in  a  humer  to 
waist  my  igsistance  by  passing  away  the  ears  of  my  youth  in  such 
a  dull  place. 

My  fust  errint  now  was,  as  you  may  phansy,  to  carry  a  noat 
from  master  to  his  destined  bride.  The  poar  thing  was  sadly  taken 
aback,  as  I  can  tell  you,  when  she  found,  after  remaining  two  hours 
at  the  Embassy,  that  her  husband  didn't  make  his  a]ipearance.  And 
so,  after  staying  on  and  on,  and  yet  seeing  no  husband,  she  was  forsed 
at  last  to  trudge  dishconslit  home,  where  I  was  already  waiting  for 
her  with  a  letter  from  my  master. 

There  was  no  use  now  denying  the  fact  of  his  arrest,  and  so  he 
confest  it  at  onst ;  but  he  made  a  cock-and-bull  story  of  treachery  erf 
a  friend,  infimous  fodgery,  and  Heaven  knows  what.     However,  it 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  321 

didn't  matter  much ;  if  he  had  told  her  that  he  had  been  betrayed 
by  the  man  in  the  moon,  she  would  have  bleavd  him. 

Lady  Grittin  never  used  to  appear  now  at  any  of  my  visits.  She 
kep  one  drawing-room,  and  Miss  dined  and  lived  alone  in  another ; 
they  quarld  so  much  that  praps  it  was  best  they  should  live  apart ; 
only  my  Lord  Crabs  used  to  see  both,  comforting  each  witli  tliat 
winning  and  innsnt  way  he  had.  He  came  in  as  Miss,  in  tears,  was 
lisning  to  my  account  of  master's  seaziu-e,  and  hoping  that  the  prisn 
wasn't  a  horrid  place,  with  a  nasty  horrid  dunjeon,  and  a  dreadile 
jailer,  and  nasty  horrid  bread  and  water.  Law  bless  us !  she  had 
borrod  her  ideers  from  the  novvles  she  had  been  reading ! 

"  0  my  Lord,  my  Lord,"  says  she,  "  have  you  heard  this  fatal 
story  r' 

"Dearest  Matilda,  what"?  For  Heaven's  sake,  you  alarm  me! 
What — yes — no — is  it — no,  it  can't  be  !  Speak  !  "  says  my  Lord, 
seizing  me  by  the  choler  of  my  coat.  "  What  has  happened  to 
my  boy  1 " 

"  Please  you,  my  Lord,"  says  I,  "  he's  at  this  moment  in  prisn, 
no  wuss, — having  been  incarserated  about  two  hours  ago." 

"  In  prison  !  Algernon  in  i)rison  !  'tis  impossible  !  Imprisoned, 
for  what  sum  1  Mention  it,  and  I  will  pay  to  the  utmost  farthing 
in  my  power." 

"  I'm  sure  your  Lordship  is  very  kind,"  says  I  (recklecting  the 
sean  betwixgst  him  and  master,  whom  he  wanted  to  diddil  out  of  a 
thowsand  lb.) ;  "and  you'll  be  ]iapi>y  to  hear  he's  only  in  for  a  tritle. 
Five  thousand  pound  is,  I  think,  i)retty  near  the  mark." 

"  Five  thousand  pounds  ! — confusion  !  "  says  my  Lord,  clasping 
his  hands,  and  looking  up  to  heaven,  "and  I  have  not  five  hunched  ! 
"Dearest  Matilda,  how  shall  we  help  him  1 " 

"  Alas,  my  Lord,  I  have  but  tliree  guineas,  and  you  know  how 
Lady  Griffin  has  the " 

"  Yes,  my  sweet  child,  I  know  what  you  would  say ;  but  be  of 
good  cheer — Algernon,  you  know,  has  ample  funds  of  his  oAvn." 

Thinking  my  Lord  meant  Dawkins's  five  thousand,  of  which,  to 
be  sure,  a  good  lump  was  left,  I  held  my  tung ;  but  I  cooden  help 
wondering  at  Lord  Crabs'  igstream  compashn  for  his  son,  and  Miss, 
with  her  £10,000  a  year,  having  only  3  guineas  in  her  pockit. 

I  took  home  (bless  us,  what  a  home  I)  a  long  and  very  inflamble 
letter  from  Miss,  in  which  she  dixscribed  her  own  sorror  at  the  dis 
appointment ;  swoar  she  lov'd  him  only  the  moar  for  his  ndsfortns  ; 
made  light  of  them ;  as  a  pusson  for  a  paltry  sum  of  five  thousand 
pound  ought  never  to  be  cast  down,  'specially  as  he  had  a  certain 
independence  in  view ;  and  vowed  that  nothing,  nothing  should  ever 
injuice  her  to  part  from  him,  etsettler,  etsettler. 
2  B 


322     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.  J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

I  told  master  of  the  conversation  whicli  had  passed  betwigst  me 
and  my  Lord,  and  of  his  handsome  offers,  and  his  liorrow  at  hearing 
of  his  son's  being  taken  ;  and  hkewise  mentioned  how  strange  it  was 
that  Miss  should  only  have  3  guineas,  and  with  such  a  fortn :  bless 
us,  I  should  have  thot  that  she  would  always  have  carried  a  hundred 
thowsnd  lb.  in  her  pockit ! 

At  this  mtiater  only  said  Pshaw !  But  the  rest  of  the  story 
about  his  father  seemed  to  dixquiet  him  a  good  deal,  and  he  made 
me  repeat  it  over  agin. 

He  walked  up  and  down  the  room  agytated,  and  it  seam'd  as  if 
a  new  lite  was  breakiug  in  upon  him. 

"Chawls,"  says  he,    "did   you   observe — did  Miss  —  did  my 
father  seem  particular!)/  intiniate  with  Miss  Grittin  .' "' 
"How  do  you  mean,  sir?"  says  I. 
"  Did  Loni  Crabs  appear  very  fond  of  Miss  Griffin  ? " 
"  He  was  suttnly  very  kind  to  hor." 

"Come,  sir,  speak  at  once:  did  I\Iiss  Griffin  seem  very  fond  of 
his  Lordship  1 " 

"  Why,  to  tell  the  truth,  sir,  1  must  say  she  seemed  very  fond 
of  him." 

"What  did  he  call  her?" 

"  He  called  her  his  dearest  gal." 

"Did  he  take  her  hand?" 

"Yes,  and  lu " 

"  And  ho  what  ? " 

"He  kist  her,  and  told  hor  not  to  be  so  werj'  down-hearted 
about  the  misfortn  which  had  hajmd  to  you." 

'  "  I  have  it  now ! "  says  he,  clinching  his  fist,  and  growing 
gashly  pail^"  I  have  it  now— the  infernal  old  hoary  scoundrel  !" 
the  wicked  lumatural  wretch  !  He  would  take  her  from  me ! " 
And  he  i)ourcd  out  a  volley  of  oaves  which  are  impossbill  to  be 
repeatid  here, 

I  thot  a.s  much  long  ago :  and  when  my  Lord  kern  with  his 
vizits  so  pretious  affeckshnt  at  my  Lady  Griffinscs,  I  expected  some 
such  game  was  in  tlie  wind.  Lidced,  I'd  heard  a  somethink  of  it 
from  the  Gritiinses  servnts,  that  my  Lord  was  mighty  tender  with 
the  ladies. 

One  thing,  however,  was  evident  to  a  man  of  his  intleckslial 
capassaties :  he  must  either  marry  the  gal  at  oust,  or  he  stood  very 
small  chance  of  having  lier.  He  must  get  out  of  limbo  immediantly, 
or  his  respectid  fother  might  be  stepping  into  his  vaykint  shoes. 
Oh!  he  saw  it  all  now— the  fust  attempt  at  arest,  the  marridge 
fixt  at  12  o'clock,  and  tlie  baylitfs  fixt  to  come  -and  intarup  the 
marridge  ! — the  jewel,  praps,  betwigst  him  and  De  TOrge  :  but  no, 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  323 

it  was  the  ivoman  who  did  that — a  man  don't  deal  sueli  fowl  blows, 
igspecially  a  father  to  his  son  :  a  woman  may,  poar  tiling ! — she's 
no  otlier  means  of  reventch,  and  is  used  to  fight  with  underhand 
wepns  all  her  life  through. 

Well,  whatever  the  pint  might  be,  this  Deuceace  saw  pretty 
clear  that  he'd  been  beat  by  his  father  at  his  own  game — a  trapp 
set  for  him  oust,  which  had  been  defitted  by  my  i-»resnts  of  mind — 
another  trap  set  afterwids,  in  Avhicli  my  Lord  had  been  suxesfle. 
Now,  my  Lord,  roag  as  he  Avas,  was  much  too  good-natured  to  do 
an  unkind  ackshn,  niearly  for  the  sake  of  doing  it.  He'd  got  to 
that  pich  that  he  didn't  mind  injaries — they  were  all  fair  play  to 
him — he  gave  'em  and  rescav'd  tliem,  without  a  thought  of  mallis. 
If  he  wanted  to  injcr  his  gon,  it  was  to  bencfick  liimself.  And  how 
was  this  to  be  done  1  By  getting  the  hairiss  to  himself,  to  be  sure. 
The  Honrabble  Mr.  D.  didn't  say  so  ;  but  I  knew  his  feelinx  well 
enough — he  regretted  that  he  had  not  given  the  old  genlmn  the 
money  he  askt  for. 

Poar  fello  !  he  thought  he  had  liit  it ;  but  he  was  wide  of  the 
mark  aftef  all. 

Well,  but  Avliat  was  to  be  done  1  It  Avas  clear  that  he  must 
marry  the  gal  at  any  rate — coothj  coot,  as  tlie  French  say :  that  is, 
marry  her,  and  hang  the  igspence. 

To  do  so  he  must  first  git  out  of  prisn — to  get  out  of  prisn  he 
must  pay  his  debts — and  to  pay  his  debts,  he  must  give  every 
shilling  he  was  Avorth.  Never  mind  :  four  thousand  pound  is  a 
small  stake  to  a  reglar  gambler,  igspecially  Avhen  he  must  play  it, 
or  rot  for  life  in  prisn ;  and  Avhen,  if  he  plays  it  well,  it  Avill  give 
him  ten  thousand  a  year. 

So,  seeing  there  Avas  no  help  for  it,  he  maid  up  his  mind,  and 
accordingly  wrote  the  foUying  letter  to  Miss  Griffin  : — 

"  My  Adoked  Matilda, — Your  letter  has  indeed  been  a  com- 
fort to  a  poor  felloAV,  Avho  had  hoped  that  this  night  Avould  have 
been  the  most  blessed  in  his  life,  and  now  finds  himself  condemned 
to  spend  it  Avithin  a  prison  AA-all !  You  know  the  accursed  con- 
spiracy Avhich  has  brought  these  liabilities  upon  me,  and  tlie  foolish 
friendship  Avhich  has  cost  me  so  much.  But  Avhat  matters  !  We 
have,  as  you  say,  enough,  even  though  I  must  pay  this  shameful 
demand  upon  me ;  and  five  thousand  pounds  are  as  nothing,  com- 
pared to  the  hai)piness  Avhich  I  lose  in  being  separated  a  night  from 
thee  !  Courage,  hoAvever  !  If  I  make  a  sacrifice  it  is  for  you  ;  and 
I  were  heartless  indeed  if  I  alloAved  my  oAvn  losses  to  balance  for  a 
moment  against  your  happiness. 

"Is  it  not  so,  beloved  one  1     Is  not  your  happiness  bound  up 


324     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.   J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

with  mine,  in  a  union  with  me  1  I  am  proud  to  think  so — proud, 
too,  to  offer  such  a  humble  proof  as  this  of  the  depth  and  purity  of 
my  affection. 

"  Tell  me  that  you  will  still  be  mine ;  tell  me  that  you  will  be 
mine  to-morrow ;  and  to-morrow  these  vile  chains  shall  be  removed, 
and  I  will  be  free  once  more — or  if  bound,  only  bound  to  you  !  My 
adorable  Matilda  !  my  betrothed  bride  !  write  to  me  ere  the  evening 
closes,  for  I  shall  never  be  able  to  shut  my  eyes  in  slumber  upon 
my  prison  couch,  until  they  have  been  first  blessed  by  tlie  sight 
or  a  few  words  from  thee  !  Write  to  me,  love  !  write  to  me  !  I 
languisla  for  the  reply  which  is  to  make  or  mar  me  for  ever. — Your 
aftectionate,  A.  P.  D." 

• 

Having  polisht  off  this  cpistol,  master  intrustid  it  to  me  to  carry, 
and  bade  me  at  the  same  time  to  try  and  give,  it  into  Miss  Griffin's 
hand  alone.  I  ran  Avith  it  to  Lady  Griffinses.  I  found  Miss,  as  I 
desired,  in  a  soUatary  condition ;  and  I  presented  her  with  master's 
pafewmed  Billy. 

She  read  it,  and  the  number  of  size  to  which  she  gave  vint,  and 
the  tears  which  she  shed,  beggar  digscription.  She  wep  and  sighed 
until  I  thought  she  would  bust.  She  even  claspt  my  hand  in  her's, 
and  said,  "  0  Charles  !  is  he  very,  very  miserable  ? " 

"He  is,  ma'am,"  says  I;  "very  miserable  indeed — nobody, 
upon  my  honour,  could  be  miserablerer." 

On  hearing  tliis  pethetic  remark,  her  mind  was  made  up  at  oust : 
and  sitting  downi  to  her  cskrewtaw,  she  immediantly  ableaged  master 
with  an  answer.     Here  it  is  in  black  and  white  : — 

"  My  prisoned  Inrd  shall  pine  no  more,  but  fly  home  to  its  nest 
in  these  arms  !  Adored  Algernon,  I  will  meet  thee  to-morrow,  at 
the  same  place,  at  the  same  hour.  Then,  then  it  will  be  impossible 
for  aught  but  dcatli  to  divide  us.  M.  G." 

This  kind  of  flumry  style  comes,  you  see,  of  reading  novvles, 
and  cultivating  littery  purshuits  in  a  small  way.  How  much  better 
is  it  to  be  pulRckly  ignorant  of  the  hart  of  writing,  and  to  trust  to 
the  writing  of  the  heart.  This  is  mi/  style :  artyfiz  I  despise,  and 
trust  compleatly  to  natur :  but  revnong  a  no  mootong,  as  our  conti- 
ncntial  friends  remark  :  to  that  nice  white  sheep,  Algernon  Percy 
Deuceace,  Exquire ;  that  wenrabble  old  rani,  my  Lord  Crabs  his 
father ;  and  that  tender  and  dellygit  young  lamb.  Miss  Matilda 
Griflin. 

She  had  just  foalded  up  into  its  proper  triangular  shape  the 
noat   transcribed  abuff,   and  I  was   just   on   the  point  of  saying, 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  325 

according  to  my  master's  orders,  "  Miss,  if  you  please,  the  Honraljble 
Mr.    Deuceace  would  be  very  nuich  ableaged  to  you  to  keep  the 

seminary  which  is  to   take  jHace  to-morrow  a  profound  se ," 

when  my  master's  father  entered,  and  I  fell  back  to  the  door.  Miss, 
without  a  word,  rusht  into  his  arms,  burst  into  teers  agin,  as  was 
her  reglar  way  (it  must  be  confest  she  was  of  a  very  mist  con- 
stitution), and  showing  to  him  his  son's  note,  cried,  "  Look,  my 
dear  Lord,  how  miljly  your  Algernon,  our  Algernon,  writes  to  me. 
Who  can  doubt,  after  this,  of  tlie  purity  of  his  matchless 
affection  ? " 

My  Lord  took  the  letter,  read  it,  seamed  a  good  deal  amyoused, 
and  returning  it  to  its  owner,  said,  very  much  to  my  surprise,  "  My 
dear  Miss  Griffin,  he  certainly  does  seem  in  earnest ;  and  if  you 
choose  to  make  this  match  without  the  consent  of  your  }u(itlior-in-law, 
you  know  the  consequences,  and  are  of  course  your  own  mistress." 

"  Consequences  ! — for  shame,  my  Lord  !  A  little  money,  more 
or  less,  what  matters  it  to  two  hearts  like  ours  % " 

"  Hearts  are  very  pretty  things,  my  sweet  young  lady,  Init 
Three-per-Cents.  are  better." 

"  Nay,  have  we  not  an  ample  income  of  our  own,  without  the 
aid  of  Lady  Griffin  ?  " 

My  Lord  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "  Be  it  so,  my  love,"  says 
he.  "  I'm  sure  I  can  have  no  other  reason  to  prevent  a  union  which 
is  founded  uijon  such  disinterested  affection." 

And  here  the  conversation  drojjt.  Miss  retired,  clasping  her 
hands,  and  making  play  Avith  the  whites  of  her  i's.  My  Lord  began 
trotting  up  and  down  the  room,  with  his  fat  hands  stuck  in  his 
britchis  pockits,  his  countnince  liglitcil  up  with  igstream  joy,  and 
singing,  to  my  inordnit  igstonishment — 

"  Sec  the  conquering  hero  comes  ! 
Tiddy  diddy  doll— tiddydoll,  doll,  doll." 

He  began  singing  this  song,  and  tearing  up  and  doA\n  the  room 
like  mad.  I  stood  amazd — a  new  light  broke  in  upon  me.  He 
wasn't  going,  then,  to  make  love  to  Miss  Griffin  !     Master  might 

marry  her  !     Had  she  not  got  the  for 1 

I  say,  I  was  just  standing  stock  still,  my  eyes  fixt,  my  hands 
puppindicklar,  my  mouf  wide  open,  and  these  igstrordinary  thoughts 
passing  in  my  mind,  when  my  Lord  having  got  to  the  last  "doll" 
of  his  song,  just  as  I  came  to  the  sillible  "for"  of  my  ventriloquism, 
or  inward  speech — we  had  eatch  jest  reached  the  pint  digscrilied, 
when  the  meditations  of  both  were  sudnly  stopt,  by  my  Lord,  in  tlie 
midst  of  liis  singin  and  trottin  match,  coming  bolt  up  aginst  poar 
me,  sending  me  up  aginst  one  end  of  the  room,  himself  flying  back 


326     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.  J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

to  the  other :  and  it  "was  only  after  considrabble  agitation  that  we 
were  at  length  restored  to  anything  like  a  liquilibrium. 

"  What,  yoii  here,  you  infernal  rascal  1 "  says  my  Lord. 

"Your  Lordship's  very  kind  to  notus  me,"  says  I;  "I  am 
here."     And  I  gave  him  a  look. 

He  saw  I  knew  the  whole  game. 

And  after  whisling  a  bit,  as  was  his  habit  when  puzzled  (I 
blcave  he'd  have  only  whisled  if  he  had  been  told  he  was  to  be 
hanged  in  five  minits),  after  whisling  a  bit,  he  stops  suduly,  and 
coming  up  to  me,  says — 

"  Hearkye,  Charles,  this  marriage  must  take  place  to-moiTOW." 

"  Must  it,  sir?"  says  I ;  "now,  for  my  part,  I  don't  tliink " 

"  Stop,  my  good  fellow  ;  if  it  does  not  take  place,  what  do  you 
gain  1.  " 

This  stagger'd  me.  If  it  didn't  take  place,  I  only  lost  a  situa- 
tion, for  master  had  but  just  enough  money  to  pay  his  detts  ;  and 
it  wooden  soot  my  book  to  serve  him  in  prisn  or  starving. 

"Well,"  says  my  Lord,  "you  see  the  force  of  my  argument. 
Now,  look  here ! "  and  he  lugs  out  a  crisp,  lluttering,  snowy 
HUNDRED-PUN  NOTE !  "  If  my  SOU  and  Miss  Griffin  arc  mairied 
to-morrow,  you  shall  have  this  ;  and  I  will,  moreover,  take  you  into 
my  service,  and  give  you  double  your  i)rosent  wages." 

Flesh  and  blood  coodcn  bear  it.  "  My  Lord,"  says  I,  laying  my 
hand  upon  my  busm,  "  only  give  me  security,  and  I'm  yoiu-s  for  ever." 

The  old  noblemin  grin'd,  and  pattid  me  on  tlie  shoulder. 
"  Right,  my  lad,"  says  he,  "  riglit — you're  a  nice  promising  youth. 
Here  is  the  best  security."  And  he  pulls  out  his  pockit-book, 
returns  the  hundred-pun  bill,  and  takes  out  one  for  fifty.  "  Here  is 
half  to-day ;  to-morrow  you  shall  have  the  remainder." 

My  fingers  trend)lcd  a  little  as  I  took  the  pretty  fluttering  bit 
of  paper,  about  five  times  as  big  as  any  sum  of  money  I  had  ever 
had  in  my  life.  I  cast  my  i  upon  the  amount  :  it  was  a  fifty  sure 
enougli — a  bank  poss-bill,  made  jxiyable  to  Leonora  Emilia  Griffin, 
and  indorsed  by  her.  The  cat  was  out  of  the  bag.  Now,  gentle 
reader^  I  spose  you  begin  to  see  the  game. 

"Recollect,  from  this  day  you  are  in  my  service.'' 

"  My  Lordj  you  ovcrpoar  me  with  yom-  faviours." 

"  Go  to  the  devil,  sir,"  says  he  ;  "  do  your  duty  and  hold  your 
tongue." 

And  thus  I  went  from  the  service  of  the  Honorabble  Algernon 
Deuceace  to  that  of  his  exlnsy  the  Right  Honorabble  Earl  of  Crabs. 

•  •••*.• 

On  going  back  to  prisn,  I  found  Deuceace  locked  up  in  that 
oajus  place  to  whicli  his  igstravygansies  had  deservedly  led  him ; 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  327 

and  felt  for  him,  I  must  say,  a  great  deal  of  contemp.  A  rasklo 
such  as  lie — a  swindler,  who  had  robljed  poar  Dawkins  of  the  nieaiis 
of  igsistauce ;  wlio  had  cheated  his  fellow-roag,  Mr.  Richard  Blewitt, 
and  who  was  making  a  nuisnary  marridge  with  a  disgusting  creaclier 
like  Miss  Griffin,  didn  merit  any  compashn  on  my  part ;  and  I 
determined  quite  to  keep  secret  the  suckmstansies  of  my  privit 
intervew  with  his  exlnsy  my  present  master. 

I  gev  him  Miss  Griffinses  trianglar,  which  he  read  Avitli  a. 
satasfied  air.  Then,  turning  to  me,  says  he  :  "  You  gave  tliis  to 
Miss  Griffin  alone  ? " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

'•  You  gave  her  my  message  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  And  you  are  quite  sure  Lord  Crabs  was  not  there  when  you 
gave  either  the  message  on  the  note  1 " 

"  Not  there,  upon  my  honour,"  says  I. 

"  Hang  your  honour,  sir  !  Brush  my  hat  and  coat,  and  go  call 
a  coach — do  you  hear  1 " 

•  •  •  •  •  •    '  • 

I  did  as  I  was  ordered ;  and  on  coming  back  found  master  in 
wdiat's  called,  I  tlunk,  the  greft'e  of  the  prisn.  The  officer  in  waiting 
had  out  a  great  register,  and  was  talking  to  master  in  the  Frencli 
tongue,  in  coarse ;  a  number  of  poar  prisners  were  looking  eagerly  on. 

"Let  us  see,  my  lor,"  says  he;  "the  debt  is  98,700  francs; 
there  are  capture  expenses,  interest  so  much  ;  and  the  whole  sum 
amounts  to  a  hundred  thousand  francs,  tnoms  13." 

Deuceace,  in  a  very  myjestic  way,  takes  out  of  his  pocket-book 
four  thowsnd  pun  notes.  "  This  is  not  French  money,  but  I  presume 
that  you  know  it,  Monsieur  Greffier,"  says  he. 

The  greffier  turned  round  to  old  Solomon,  a  money-changer, 
who  had  one  or  two  clients  in  the  prisn,  and  hapnd  luckily  to 
be  there.  "Les  billets  sont  bons,"  says  he.  "Je  les  prendrai 
pour  cent  mille  deiuc  cents  francs,  et  j'espere,  my  lor,  de  vous 
revoir." 

"  Good,"  says  the  gi-effier ;  "  I  know  them  to  be  good,  and  I 
will  give  my  lor  the  diti'erence,  and  make  out  his  release." 

Which  was  done.  The  poar  debtors  gave  a  feeble  cheer,  as  the 
great  dubble  iron  gates  swung  open  and  clang  to  again,  and  Deuceace 
stept  out,  and  me  after  him,  to  breathe  tlie  fresh  hair. 

He  had  been  in  the  place  but  six  liours,  and  was  now  free 
again — free,  and  to  be  married  to  ten  thousand  a  year  nex  day. 
But,  for  all  that,  he  lookt  very  foint  and  pale.  He  had  put  down 
his  great  stake ;  and  v,-lien  he  came  out  of  Sainte  Pelagic,  he  had 
but  fifty  pounds  left  in  the  world ! 


328     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.   J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

Never  mind — wlien  oust  the  money's  down,  make  your  mind 
easy  ;  and  so  Deuceace  did.  He  drove  back  to  the  Hotel  Mirabew, 
wliere  he  ordered  ajiartinince  infinately  more  splendid  tlian  l^efor ; 
and  I  pretty  soon  told  Toinette,  and  the  rest  of  the  siu^^ants,  how 
nobly  he  behayved,  and  how  he  valyoud  four  thousnd  pound  no 
more  than  ditch  water.  And  such  was  the  consqiiincies  of  my 
I)raises,  and  the  poplarity  I  got  for  us  boath,  that  the  delighted 
landlady  imniediantly  charged  him  dubble  what  she  would  have 
done,  if  it  hadn  been  for  my  stoaries. 

He  ordered  splendid  apartmince,  then,  for  the  nex  week  ;  a 
canidge-and-four  for  Fontainebloau  to-morrow  at  1 2  precisely ;  and 
liaving  settled  all  these  things,  Avent  quietly  to  the  "  Roshy  de 
Cancale,"  where  he  dined :  as  well  he  might,  for  it  was  now  eight 
o'clock.  I  didn't  spare  the  shompang  neither  that  night,  I  can  tell 
you ;  for  when  I  carried  the  note  he  gave  me  for  Miss  Griffin  in 
the  evening,  informing  her  of  his  freedom,  that  young  lady  remarked 
my  hagitatcd  manner  of  walking  and  speaking,  and  said,  "  Honest 
Charles  I  he  is  fluslit  with  the  events  of  the  day.  Here,  Charles,  is 
a  napoleon ;  take  it  and  drink  to  your  mistress." 

I  pockitid  it ;  but,  I  must  say,  I  didn't  like  the  money — it 
went  against  my  stomick  to  take  it 


CHAPTER   IX 

THE  MARRIAGE 

WELL,  the  iiex  day  came :  at  12  the  carridge-and-four  was 
waiting  at  the  ambasdor's  doar  ;  and  Miss  Griffin  and  the 
faithUe  Kicksey  were  punctial  to  the  apintrnciit. 

I  don't  wish  to  digscribe  the  marridge  seminary — how  the  em- 
basy  chapling  jined  the  hands  of  this  loving  young  couple — how  one 
of  the  embasy  footmin  was  called  in  to  witness  the  marridge — how 
Miss  wep  and  fainted,  as  nsial — and  how  Deuceace  carried  her, 
fainting,  to  the  brisky,  and  drove  off  to  Fontiugblo,  where  they 
were  to  pass  the  fust  weak  of  the  honeymoon.  They  took  no 
servnts,  because  they  wisht,  they  said,  to  be  privit.  And  so, 
when  I  had  shut  up  the  steps,  and  bid  the  postilion  drive  on,  I 
bid  ajew  to  the  Honrabble  Algernon,  and  went  oft'  strait  to  his 
exlent  father. 

"  Is  it  all  over,  Chawls  ?  "  said  he. 

"I  saw  them  turned  oft'  at  igsackly  a  quarter  past  12,  my 
Lord,"  says  I. 

"Did  you  give  Miss  Griffin  the  paper,  as  I  told  you,  before 
her  marriage  1 " 

"  I  did,  my  Lord,  in  the  presents  of  Mr.  Brown,  Lord  Bobtail's 
man ;  who  can  swear  to  her  having  had  it." 

I  must  tell  you  that  my  Lord  had  made  me  read  a  paper  which 
Lady  Griffin  had  written,  and  which  I  was  comishnd  to  give  in  the 
manner  menshnd  abuft'.     It  ran  to  this  eft'ect : — 

"According  to  the  authority  given  me  by  the  will  of  my  lato 
dear  husband,  I  forbid  the  marriage  of  Miss  Griffin  with  the  Honour- 
able Algernon  Percy  Deuceace.  If  Miss  Griffin  persists  in  the  union, 
I  warn  her  that  she  must  abide  by  the  consequences  of  her  act. 

"Leonora  Emilia  Geiffin. 

"Rue  de  Rivoli:  3Iai/  8,  1818." 

When  I  gave  this  to  Miss  as  she  entered  the  cortyard,  a  minnit 
before  my  master's  arrivle,  she  only  read  it  contemptiously,  and 
said,  "I  laugh  at  the  threats  of  Lady  Griffin;"  and  she  toar  the 


330     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.   J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

paper  in  two,  and  walked  on,  leaning  on  the  arm  of  the  faithful  and 
obleaging  Miss  Kicksey. 

I  picked  up  the  paper  for  fear  of  axdents,  and  brot  it  to  my 
Lord.  Not  that  there  was  any  necessaty ;  for  he'd  kep  a  copy, 
and  made  me  and  another  witniss  (my  Lady  Griffin's  solissator) 
read  them  both,  before  he  sent  either  away. 

"  Good  ! "  says  he ;  and  he  projuiced  fixnn  his  potfolio  tlie  fello 
of  that  bewchus  fifty-pun  note,  which  he'd  given  me  yesterday.  "  I 
keep  my  promise,  you  see,  Charles,"  says  he.  "You  are  now  in 
Lady  Griffin's  service,  in  the  place  of  Mr.  Fitzclarencc,  who  retires. 
Go  to  Frojd's,  and  get  a  livery." 

"  But,  my  Lord,"  says  I,  "  I  was  not  to  go  into  Lady  Griffiuses 
service,  according  to  the  bargain,  but  into " 

"  It's  all  tlie  same  thing,"  says  he ;  and  he  walked  off.  I  went 
to  Mr.  Froje's,  and  ordered  a  new  livry ;  and  fmrnd,  likwise,  tliat 
our  coachmin  and  Munseer  Mortimer  had  been  there  too.  My  Lady's 
livery  was  changed,  and  was  now  of  the  same  color  as  my  old  coat 
at  Mr.  Dcucoace's;  and  I'm  blest  if  tliere  wa.«;n't  a  tromonjious  gi'oat 
earl's  corrDuit  on  the  butins,  instid  of  the  Griffin  rampiiit,  which 
was  worn  befoar. 

I  asked  no  questions,  however,  but  had  myself  measured  ;  and 
slep  that  night  at  the  Plas  Yandome.  I  didn't  go  out  with  the 
carridge  for  a  day  or  two,  thougli ;  my  Lady  only  taking  one  footmin, 
she  said,  imtil  her  neio  carridge  was  turned  out. 

I  think  you  can  guess  what's  in  the  Avind  now  ! 

I  bot  myself  a  dressing-case,  a  box  of  Ody  colong,  a  few  duzcu 
lawn  sherts  and  neckcloths,  and  other  things  which  were  necessary 
for  a  genlmn  in  my  rank.  8ilk  stockings  wa.s  provided  by  the 
rules  of  the  house.  And  I  completed  the  bisniss  by  writing  the 
foUviug  ginteel  letter  to  mv  late  master : — 

Charles  Yellowjilush,  Esquire,  to  the  Honourable  A.  P.  Deuceace. 

"SuR, — Suckmstansies  have  acurd  sins  I  last  had  tlic  honner  of 
wating  on  you,  which  render  it  impossl)il  tiiat  I  should  rcmane  any 
longer  in  your  suvvice.  I'U  thank  you  to  leave  out  my  thinx,  when 
they  come  home  on  Sattady  from  the  wash. — Your  obeajnt  ser\nit, 

"  Charles  Yellowplush, 

"Plas  VEXDOiiE." 

The  athograpliy  of  the  abuv  noat,  I  confess,  is  atrocious ;  but 
l-e  voolyvoo  ?  I  was  only  eighteen,  and  hadn  then  the  expearance 
in  writing  which  I've  enjide  sins. 

Having  thus  done  my  jewty  in  cvrv  way,  I  shall  prosead,  in 
the  nex  chapter,  to  say  what  hapnd  in  my  new  place. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  HONEYMOON 

THE  weak  at  Fontingblow  past  quickly  away ;  and  at  the  end 
of  it,  our  son  and  daughter-in-law — a  pare  of  nice  young 
tuttle-duvs — returned  to  their  nest,  at  the  Hotel  Mirabew. 
I  svispeck  that  the  ,cock  turtle-dove  was  preshos  sick  of  liis  barging. 
When  they  arriv'd,  the  fust  thing  they  found  on  their  talkie  was 
a  large  parsle  wrapt  uj)  in  silver  paper,  and  a  newspaper,  and  a 
coujile  of  cards,  tied  up  with  a  peace  of  white  ribbing.  In  the 
parsle  was  a  hansume  piece  of  plum-cake,  with  a  deal  of  sugar. 
On  the  cards  was  wrote,  in  Goffick  characters. 


(Bnxl  of  Crabs. 


And,  in  very  small  Italian, 


Coimtess  of  Crabs. 


And  in  the  paper  was  the  following  parrowgi-aff : — 

"Marriage  in  High  Life. — Yesterday,  at  the  British  Embassy, 
the  Right  Honourable  John  Augustus  Altamont  Plantagenet,  Earl 
of  Crabs,  to  Leonora  Emilia,  widow  of  the  late  Lieuteuant-Gencral 
Sir  George  Griffin,  K.C.B.  An  elegant  dejeuner  Avas  given  to  the 
liappy  couple  by  his  Excellency  Lord  Bobtail,  who  gave  away  the 
bride.  The  e'lite  of  tlie  foreign  diplomacy,  the  Prince  Talleyrand 
and  Marshal  the  Duke  of  Dalmatia  on  behalf  of  H.M.  the  King  of 
France,  honoured  tlie  banquet  and  the  marriage  ceremony.  Lord 
and  Lady  Crabs  intend  passing  a  few  weeks  at  Saint  Cloud." 

The  above  dockyments,  along  with  my  own  triffling  l^illy,  of 
which  I  have  also  givn  a  copy,  greated  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Deuceacc  on 


332     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.   J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

their  arrivlc  from  Fontingblo.  Not  being  present,  I  can't  say  what 
Deuceace  said ;  but  I  can  fancy  how  he  looJd,  and  how  poor  Mrs. 
Deuceace  lookt.  They  weren't  much  inchned  to  rest  after  the  fiteeg 
of  the  junuy ;  for,  in  i  an  hour  after  their  arrival  at  Paris,  the 
hosses  were  put  to  the  carridge  agen,  and  down  they  came  thunder- 
ing to  our  country-house  at  St.  Cloud  (pronounst  by  those  absud 
Frenchmin  Sing  Kloo),  to  interrup  our  chaste  loves  and  delishs 
marridge  injyments. 

My  Lord  was  sittu  in  a  crimson  satan  dressing-gown,  lolling  on 
a  sofa  at  an  open  windy,  smoaking  seagars,  as  ushle  ;  her  Ladyship, 
who,  to  du  her  justice,  didn  nnnd  the  smell,  occupied  another  end  of 
the  room,  and  was  working,  in  wusted,  a  pare  of  slippers,  or  an 
umbrellore  case,  or  a  coal-skittle,  or  some  such  nonsints.  You  would 
have  thought  to  have  scan  'em  that  they  had  been  married  a  sentry, 
at  least.  Well,  I  bust  in  upon  tliis  conjugal  tator-tator,  and  said, 
very  much  alarmed,  "Jly  Lord,  liere's  your  son  and  daugliter-in- 
law." 

"Well,"  says  my  Lord,  quite  calm,  "and  what  then?" 

"  jMr.  Deuceace ! "  says  my  Lady,  starting  up,  and  looking 
fritened. 

"  Yes,  my  love,  my  son  ;  but  you  need  not  be  alarmed.  Pray, 
Charles,  say  that  Lady  Crabs  and  I  will  be  very  happy  to  see  Mr. 
and  ]\L-.s.  Deuceace ;  and  that  they  must  excuse  us  receiving  them 
671  famille.  Sit  still,  my  blessing — take  things  coolly.  Have  you 
got  the  box  with  the  papers  ? " 

My  Lady  ])ointed  to  a  great  green  box — the  same  from  which 
she  had  taken  the  papers,  when  Deuceace  fust  saw  them, — and 
han(k\l  over  to  my  Lord  a  fine  gold  key.  I  went  out,  met  Deuceace 
and  liis  wife  on  the  stepps,  gave  my  messinge,  and  bowed  them 
palitely  in. 

My  Lord  didn't  rise,  but  smoakeil  away  as  usual  (praps  a  little 
quicker,  but  I  can't  say)  ;  my  Lady  sat  ui>riLrht,  looking  liandsum 
and  strong.  Deuceace  walked  in,  his  left  arm  tied  to  his  breast, 
his  wife  and  hat  on  the  other.  He  looked  very  pale  and  frightened; 
his  wife,  poar  thing !  had  her  head  berried  in  her  handkerchief,  and 
sobd  fit  to  break  her  heart. 

Miss  Kicksey,  who  was  in  the  room  (but  I  didn't  mention  her, 
she  was  less  than  nothink  in  our  house),  went  up  to  Mrs.  Deuceace 
at  oust,  and  held  out  her  arms — she  had  a  heart,  that  old  Kicksey, 
and  I  respect  her  for  it.  The  poor  hunchback  flung  herself  into 
Miss's  arms,  with  a  kind  of  whooping  screech,  and  kep  there  for 
some  time,  sobbing  in  quite  a  historical  manner.  I  saw  there  was 
going  to  be  a  scan,  and  so,  in  cors,  left  tlie  door  ajar. 

■  Welcome  to  Saint  Cloud,  Algy,  my  boy  !  "  says  my  Lord,  in  a 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  333 

loud  hearty  voice.  "  You  thought  you  would  give  us  the  slip,  eh, 
you  rogue  1  But  we  knew  it,  my  dear  fellow  :  we  kuew  the  whole 
affair — did  we  uot,  my  soul  1 — and,  you  see,  kept  our  secret  better 
than  you  did  yours." 

"I  must  confess,  sir,"  says  Deuceace,  bowing,  "that  I  had  no 
idea  of  the  happiness  which  awaited  me  in  the  shape  of  a  mother-in- 
law." 

"No,  you  dog;  no,  no,"  says  my  Lord,  giggling:  "old  birds, 
you  know,  not  to  be  caught  witli  chaff,  like  young  ones.  But  here 
we  are,  all  spliced  and  happy,  at  last.  Sit  down,  Algernon ;  let  us 
smoke  a  segar,  and  talk  over  the  perils  and  adventures  of  the  last 
month.  My  love,"  says  my  Lord,  turning  to  his  lady,  "  you  have 
no  malice  against  poor  Algernon,  I  trust  1  Pray  shake  his  haiicV 
(A  grin.) 

But  my  Lady  rose  and  said,  "  I  have  told  Mr.  Deuceace,  that  I 
never  wished  to  see  him,  or  speak  to  him  more.  I  see  no  reason, 
now,  to  change  my  opinion."  And  herewith  she  sailed  out  of  the 
room,  by  the  door  tlarough  which  Kicksey  had  carried  poor  Mrs. 
Deuceace. 

"  Well,  well,"  sfvys  rny  Lord,  as  Lady  Crabs  swept  by,  "  I  was  in 
hopes  she  had  forgiven  you  ;  but  I  know  the  whole  story,  and  I  must 
confess  you  used  her  cruelly  ill.  Two  strings  to  your  bow  ! — that  was 
your  game,  was  it,  you  rogne  1 " 

"  Do  you  mean,  my  Lord,  that  you  know  all  that  past  between 

me  and  Lady  Grif Lady  Crabs,  Itefore  our  quarrel  ? " 

"  Perfectly — you  made  love  to  her,  and  she  was  almost  in  love 
with  you  ;  you  jilted  her  for  money,  she  got  a  man  to  shoot  your 
hand  off  in  revenge  :  no  more  dice-boxes,  now,  Deuceace ;  no  more 
saufer  la  coup.  I  can't  think  how  the  deuce  you  will  manage  to 
live  without  them." 

"  Your  lordship  is  very  kind  ;  but  I  have  given  up  play  alto- 
gether," says  Deuceace,  looking  mighty  black  and  uneasy. 

"Oh,  Indeed!  Benedick  has  turned  a  moral  man,  has  he? 
This  is  better  and  better.  Ai-e  you  thinking  of  going  into  the 
Church,  Deuceace  1 " 

"  My  Lord,  may  I  ask  you  to  be  a  little  more  serious  ? " 
"  Serious  !  a  quoi  bon  1     I  ain  serious— serious  in  my  surprise 
that,  when  you  might  have  had  either  of  these  women,  you  should 
have  preferred  that  hideous  wife  of  yours." 

"■  May  I  ask  you,  in  tiu-n,  \\o\\  you  came  to  be  so  little  squeamish 
about  a  wife,  as  to  choose  a  woman  who  had  jlist  been  making  love 
to  your  own  son  %  "  says  Deuceace,  growing  fierce. 

"How  can  you  ask  such  a  question?  I  owe  forty  thousand 
pounds— there  is  an  execution  at  Sizes  Hall— every  acre  I  have  is 


334     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.   J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

in  tlie  hands  of  nij-  creditors ;  and  that's  why  I  married  her.  Do 
you  think  there  was  any  love  1  Lady  Crabs  is  a  dev'lish  fine  woman, 
but  she's  not  a  fool — she  married  me  for  my  coronet,  and  I  married 
her  for  her  money." 

"^       "  Well,  my  Lord,  you  need  not  ask  me,  I  think,  why  I  married 
the  daughter-in-law." 

"Yes,  but  I  do,  my  dear  boy.  How  the  deuce  are  you  to 
live  ?  Dawkins's  five  thousand  pounds  .won't  last  for  ever.  And 
afterwards  1 " 

"  You  don't  mean,  my  Lord — you  don't — I  mean,  you  can't 

D !"  says  he,  starting  up,  and  losing  all  patience,  "you  don't 

dare  to  say  that  Miss  Griffin  had  not  a  fortune  of  ten  thousand 
a  year  1 " 

My  Lord  was  rolling  up,  and  wetting  bctwigst  his  lips,  another 
segar ;  he  lookt  up,  after  he  had  lighted  it,  and  said  quietly — 

"  Certainly,  Miss  Griffin  had  a  fortune  of  ten  thousand  a  year." 

"  Well,  sir,  and  has  she  not  got  it  now  ]  H:xs  she  spent  it  in 
a  week  1" 

"  She  has  not  got  a  sixpence  now :  she  married  tvithoict  her 
inother''s  consent !  " 

Deuceace  sank  down  in  a  chair ;  and  I  never  see  such  a  dreadful 
picture  of  despair  as  there  wa«  in  the  fixce  of  that  retchid  man  ! — he 
writhed,  and  nasht  his  teeth,  he  tore  open  his  coat,  and  wriggled 
madly  tlic  stump  of  his  left  hand,  until,  fairly  beat,  he  throw  it  over 
his  livid  i)ale  face,  and  sinking  Ijackwards,  fairly  wept  alowd. 

Bah  !  it's  adrcddfle  thing  to  liear  a  man  crying !  liis  pashn  torn 
up  from  the  very  roots  of  his  heart,  as  it  must  be  before  it  can  git 
such  a  vent.  My  Lord,  meanwhile,  rolled  his  segar,  lighted  it,  and 
went  on. 

"  My  dear  boy,  the  girl  has  not  a  shilling.  I  wished  to  have 
left  you  alone  in  i)eaco,  with  your  four  tliousand  pounds ;  you  might 
have  lived  decently  upon  it  in  Germany,  where  money  is  at  5  per 
cent.,  where  your  duns  would  not  find  you,  and  a  couple  of  hundred 
a  year  would  have  kei)t  you  and  your  wife  in  comfort.  But,  you 
see.  Lady  Crabs  would  not  listen  to  it.  You  had  injured  her ;  and, 
after  she  had  tried  to  kill  you  and  foiled,  she  determined  to  ruin 
you,  and  succeeded.  I  must  own  to  you  that  I  directed  the  arrest- 
ing business,  and  put  her  up  to  buying  your  jirotested  bills :  she 
got  them  for  a  trifle,  and  as  you  have  paid  tliera,  has  made  a  good 
two  thousand  pounds  by  her  bargain.  It  was  a  painful  thing,  to 
be  sure,  for  a  father  to  get  his  son  arrested ;  but  que  voulez-vous  ? 
I  did  not  appear  in  the  transaction  :  she  would  have  you  ruined ; 
and  it  was  absolutely  necessary  that  you  shonld  marry  before  I 
could,  so  I  pleaded  your  cause  with  Miss  Griffin,  and  made  you  the 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  335 

happy  man  you  arc.  You  rogue,  you  rogue  !  you  tlmught  to  luatch 
your  old  father,  did  you  1  But,  never  mind;  hnich  will  be  ready  soon. 
In  the  meantime,  have  a  segar,  and  drink  a  gla.ss  of  Sautenie." 

Deuceace,  who  had  been  listening  to  this  speech,  sprmig  up 
wildly. 

"  I'll  not  believe  it,"  he  said  :  "it's  a  lie,  an  infernal  lie  I  forged 
by  you,  you  hoary  villain,  and  by  the  murderess  and  strumpet  you 
have  married.  I'll  not  believe  it :  show  me  the  will.  Matilda  I 
Matilda ! "  shouted  he,  screaming  hoarsely,  and  Hinging  open  the 
door  by  which  she  had  gone  out. 

"  Keep  your  temper,  my  boy.  You  are  vexed,  and  I  feel 
for  you :  but  don't  use  such  bad  language  :  it  is  quite  needless, 
believe  me." 

"Matilda  !  "  shouted  out  Deuceace  again  ;  and  the  poor  crooked 
thing  came  trembling  in,  followed  by  Miss  Kicksey. 

"  Is  this  true,  woman  1 "  says  he,  clutching  hold  of  her  hand. 

"  What,  dear  Algernon  1 "  says  she. 

"WhatT'  screams  out  Deuceace, — "what?  Why,  that  you 
are  a  beggar,  for  marrying  without  your  mother's  consent — that 
you  basely  lied  to  me,  in  order  to  bring  about  this  match — that 
you  are  a  swindler,  in  conspiracy  with  that  old  fiend  yonder  and 
the  she-devil  his  wdfe  1 " 

"It  is  true,"  sobbed  the  poor  woman,  "that  I  have  nothing; 

but " 

"Nothing  but  what?     Why   don't  you   speak,  you  drivelhng 

fooir' 

"  I  have  nothing  !— but  you,  dearest,  have  two  thousand  a  year. 
Is  that  not  enough  for  us  1  You  love  me  for  myself,  don't  you, 
Algernon  1  You  have  told  mc  so  a  thousand  times — say  so  again, 
dear  husband  ;  and  do  not,  do  not  be  so  unkind."  And  here  slie 
sank  on  her  knees,  and  clung  to  him,  and  tried  to  catch  his  hand, 
and  kiss  it. 

"  How  much  did  you  say  1 "  says  my  Lord. 

"  Two  thousand  a,  year,  sir  ;  lie  has  told  us  so  a  thousand  times." 

«  Tu^o  thousand  !  'Two  thou— ho,  ho,  ho  !— haw  !  haw  !  haw  !  " 
roars  my  Lord.  "  That  is,  I  vow,  the  best  thing  I  ever  heard  m 
my  life.'^  My  dear  creature,  he  has  not  a  shilhng— not  a  smgle 
maravedi,  by^lll  the  gods  and  goddesses."  And  this  exlnt  noblemiu 
began  laffin  louder  than  ever  :  a  very  kind  and  feeling  genlinu  ho 
was,  as  all  must  confess. 

There  was  a  paws :  and  I\Irs.  Deuceace  didn  begni  cussuig  and 
swearino-  at  her  husband  as  he  had  done  at  her  :  she  only  said,  "  Oh 
Algernon  !  is  this  true?"  and  got  up,  and  went  to  a  chair,  and  wep 
.in  quiet. 
3 


336     MEMOIRS   OF    MR.   C.  J.  YELLO^yPLUSH 

My  Lord  opened  the  .great  box.  "If  you  or  your  lawyers 
would  like  to  examiue  Sir  George's  will,  it  is  quite  at  your  service ; 
you  will  see  here  the  proviso  which  I  mentioned,  that  gives  the 
entire  fortune  to  Lady  Griffin — Lady  Crabs  that  is  :  and  here,  my 
dear  boy,  you  see  the  danger  of  hasty  conclusions.  Her  Ladyship 
only  showed  you  the  first  j^cioe  of  the  tvill,  of  course ;  she  wanted 
to  try  you.  You  thought  you  made  a  great  stroke  in  at  once  pro- 
posing to  Miss  Griffin — do  not  mind  it,  my  love,  he  really  loves 
you  now  very  sincerely  ! — when,  in  fact,  you  would  have  done 
much  better  to  have  read  the  rest  of  the  will.  You  were  completely 
bitten,  my  boy — humbugged,  bamboozled — ay,  and  by  your  old 
father,  you  dog.  I  told  you  I  would,  you  know,  when  you  refused 
to  lend  me  a  portion  of  your  Dawkins  lUDuey.  I  told  you  I  woulil ; 
and  I  did.  I  had  you  the  very  next  day.  Let  this  be  a  lesson 
to  you,  Percy,  my  boy  ;  dcm't  try  your  luck  again  against  such  old 
hands  :  look  deuced  well  before  you  leap  ;  audi  alteram  partem,  my 
lad,  whi(-h  means,  read  both  sides  of  the  will.  I  think  lunch  is 
ready  ;  but  I  see  you  don't  smoke.     Shall  we  go  in  1 " 

"Stoj),  my  Lord,"  says  Mr.  Deuceace,  very  humble:  "I  shall 
not  share  your  hosi)itality — but — but  you  know  my  condition  ;  I 
am  penniless — you  know  the  manner  in  which  my  wife  has  been 
brought  up " 

"  The  Honoiu-able  INIrs.  Deuceace,  sir,  sliall  always  find  a  home 
here,  as  if  nothing  had  occurred  to  intcrrujit  the  friendshiit  between 
her  dear  mother  and  herself." 

"  And  for  mo,  sir,"  says  Deuceace,  speaking  faint,  and  very 
slow;  "I  hope — I  trust— I  think,  my  Lord,  you  will  not  for- 
get me  1 " 

"  Forget  you,  sir ;  certainly  not.'' 

"And  that  you  will  make  some  ])rovisiiiii ?" 

"  Algernon  Deuceace,'"  says  my  Lord,  getting  up  from  the  sophy, 
and  looking  at  him  with  sich  a  jolly  malignity,  a.s  /  never  see,  "  I 
declare,  before  Heaven,  that  I  will  not  give  you  a  i>cnny  ! " 

Hereupon  my  Lord  held  out  his  hand  to  ]\Ir,s.  Deuceace,  and 
said,  "My  dear,  will  you  join  your  mother  and  me?  We  shall 
always,  as  I  said,  have  a  home  for  you." 

"  jNIy  Lord,"  said  the  poar  thing,  dropping  a  curtsey,  "  my  home 
is  with  h  im  !  " 


About  three  months  after,  when  the  season  was  beginning  at 
Paris,   and  the  autumn  loafs  was  on  the  ground,   my  Lord,  my 


THE    AMOURS    OF    MR.  DEUCEACE  337 

Lady,  me  and  IMortimer,  were  taking  a  stroal  in  the  Boddy  Balong, 
the  carridge  driving  on  slowly  ahead,  and  us  as  happy  as  possbill, 
admiring  the  pleasant  woods  and  the  goldn  sunset. 

My  Lord  was  expayshating  to  my  Lady  upon  the  exquizit  beauty 
of  the  sean,  and  jiouring  forth  a  host  of  butifle  and  virtuous  senta- 
ments  sootable  to  the  hour.  It  was  dalitefle  to  hear  him.  "  Ah  !  " 
said  he,  "black  must  lie  the  heart,  my  love,  wliich  does  not  feel  tiie 
influence  of  a  scene  like  this  ;  gathering,  as  it  were,  from  those  sunlit 
skies,  a  portion  of  their  celestial  gold,  and  gaining  somewhat  of  heaven 
with  each  pure  draught  of  this  delicious  air  !  " 

Lady  Crabs  did  not  speak,  but  prest  his  arm  and  looked  upwards, 
Mortimer  and  I,  too,  felt  some  of  the  infliwents  of  the  sean,  and 
lent  on  oiu"  goold  sticks  in  silence.  The  carriage  drew  up  close  to 
us,  and  my  Lord  and  my  Lady  sauntered  slowly  tords  it. 

Jest  at  the  place  was  a  bench,  and  on  the  bench  sate  a  jioorly 
drest  woman,  and  by  her,  leaning  against  a  tree,  was  a  man  whom 
I  thought  I'd  sean  befor.  He  was  drest  in  a  shabby  blew  coat, 
with  white  seems  and  copper  buttons ;  a  torn  hat  was  on  his  head, 
and  great  ciuantaties  of  matted  hair  and  Avhiskers  disfiggared  his 
countnints.     He  was  not  shaved,  and  as  jtale  as  stone. 

My  Lord  and  Lady  didn  tak  the  slightest  notice  of  liim,  but 
past  on  to  the  carridge.  Me  and  Mortimer  lickwise  took  our  places. 
As  we  past,  the  man  had  got  a  grip  of  the  woman's  shoulder,  Avho  was 
holding  down  her  head,  sobbing  bitterly. 

No  sooner  were  my  Lord  and  Lady  seated,  than  they  both,  with 
igstream  dellixy  and  good  natur,  bust  into  a  ror  of  lafter,  peal  upon 
peal,  whooping  and  screaching  enough  to  frighten  the  evening  silents. 

Deuceace  turned  round.  I  see  his  face  now — the  face  of  a 
devvle  of  hell !  Fust,  he  lookt  towards  the  carridge,  and  pinted  to 
it  with  his  maimed  arm ;  then  he  raised  the  other,  and  strnick  the 
woman  hy  k/'s  side.     She  fell,  screaming. 

Poor  thing  !     Poor  thing  ! 


-'o 


MR,    YELLOIVPLUSH'S    A  JEW 

THE  oud  of  Mr.  Deuceace's  history  is  going  to  be  the  end  of 
my  corrispondince.  I  wish  the  i)ublic  was  as  sory  to  part 
with  me  as  I  am  with  the  i)ublic ;  becaws  I  fansy  reely  that 
we've  l)ec()me  fronds,  and  feal  fur  my  part  a  becoming  greaf  at 
saying  ajew. 

It's  imposbill  for  me  to  continyow,  however,  a-wTitin,  as  I  liave 
done — violettiiig  tlie  rnk's  of  avitliography,  and  tranipUng  upon  tlie 
fust  princei)ills  of  English  grammar.  When  I  began,  I  knew  no 
better :  when  I'd  carrid  on  these  jiapers  a  little  farther,  and  grew 
accustmd  to  writin,  I  iK^gan  to  smel  out  SDmethink  quear  in  my 
style.  Within  the  last  sex  weaks  I  have  been  learning  to  spell : 
and  when  all  the  world  was  rejoicing  at  the  festivvaties  of  our 
youtliful  Quean  * — when  all  i's  were  fixt  upon  her  long  sweet  of 
ambasdors  and  princes,  folhnving  the  splendid  carridge  of  Marshle 
the  Duke  of  Damlatiar,  and  1  (linking  at  the  j^earls  and  dimince  of 
Prince  Oystcreasy — Yellowplush  was  in  his  loauly  pantry — his 
eyes  Avere  fixt  nj)on  the  spelling-book — his  heart  was  bent  upon 
mastring  the  ditiickleties  of  tlie  littery  profcsshn.  I  have  been,  in 
fact,  convertid. 

You  shall  here  how.  Ours,  you  know,  is  a  Wig  house ;  and 
ever  sins  his  third  son  has  got  a  jdace  in  the  Treasury,  his  secknd 
a  captingsy  in  the  Guards,  his  fust,  the  secretary  of  embasy  at 
Pokin,  with  a  prospick  of  being  appinted  arabasdor  at  Loo  Choo 
— ever  sins  master's  sons  have  reseaved  these,  attentions,  and 
master  himself  has  had  the  promis  of  a  i)earitch,  he  has  been  the 
most  rcglar,  consistnt,  honrabble  Libbaral,  in  or  out  of  the  House 
of  Commins. 

Well,  being  a  Wliig,  it's  the  fashn,  as  you  know,  to  reseave 
littery  pipple  ;  and  accordingly,  at  dinner,  totlier  day,  whose  name 
do  you  think  I  had  to  hollar  out  on  the  fust  landing-place  about  a 
wick  ago  ?  After  several  dukes  and  markises  had  been  enounced,  a 
very  gentell  fly  drives  up  to  our  doar,  and  out  steps  two  gentlemen. 
One  was  pail,  and  wor  spektickles,  a  wig,  and  a  white  neckclotlL 

*  This  was  written  in  183S. 


MR.  YELLOWPLUSH'S    AJEW  339 

The  otlicr  was  slim  with  a  hook  nose,  a  pail  fase,  a  small  waist,  a 
pare  of  falling  shoulders,  a  tight  coat,  and  a  catarack  of  l)lafk 
satting  tumbling  out  of  his  busm,  and  falling  into  a  gilt  velvet 
weskit.  The  little  genlmn  settled  his  wigg,  and  pulled  out  his 
ribbins ;  the  younger  one  fluffed  the  dust  of  his  shoos,  looked  at  his 
wiskers  in  a  little  pockit-glas,  settled  his  crevatt ;  and  they  both 
mounted  upstairs. 

"What  name,  sir?"  says  I,  to  the  old  genlmn. 

"Name! — a!  now,  you  thief  0'  the  wurrld,"  says  he,  "do  you 
pretind  nat  to  know  me  1  Say  it's  the  Cabinet  Cyclopa — no,  I 
mane  the  Litherary  Chran — psha! — bluthanowns! — say  it's  Docthor 
DiocLESiAN  Larner — I  think  he'll  know  me  now — ay,  Nid?" 
But  the  genlmn  called  Nid  was  at  the  botm  of  the  stare,  and  pre- 
tended to  be  very  busy  with  his  shoo-string.  So  the  little  genlmn 
went  upstares  alone. 

"  Doctor  Diolesius  Larner  !  "  says  I. 

"  Doctor  Athanasius  Lardner  ! "  says  Greville  Fitz-Eoy, 
our  secknd  footman,  on  the  fust  landing-place. 

"  Doctor  Ignatius  SLoooIa  !  "  says  the  groom  of  the  chambers, 
who  pretends  to  be  a  schoUar  ;  and  in  the  little  genlnm  went. 
When  safely  housed,  the  other  chap  came ;  and  when  I  asked  him 
his  name,  said,  in  a  thick,  gobbling  kind  of  voice — 

' '  Sawedwadgeorgeearllittnbulwig. " 

"  Sir  what?"  says  I,  quite  agast  at  the  name. 

"  Sawedwad — no,  I  mean  il/?'s^a?cedwad  Lyttn  Bulwig." 

My  neas  trembled  under  me,  my  i's  fild  with  tiers,  my  voice 
shook,  as  I  past  up  \\\c  venrabble  name  to  tlie  other  footman,  and 
saw  this  fust  of  Englisli  writers  go  up  to  the  drawing-room  ! 

It's  needless  to  mention  the  names  of  the  rest  of  tlie  compny, 
or  to  dixcribe  the  suckmstansies  of  the  dinner.  Suftiz  to  say  that 
the  two  littery  genlmn  behaved  very  well,  and  seamed  to  have 
good  appytights ;  igspecially  the  little  Irishman  in  the  whig,  who 
et,  drunk,  and  talked  as  much  as  \  a  duzn.  He  told  how  he'd 
been  presented  at  cort  by  his  friend,  Mr.  Bulwig,  and  how  the 
Quean  had  received  'em  both,  with  a  dignity  undigscribable ;  and 
how  her"  blessid  Majisty  asked  what  was  the  bony  fidy  sale  of  the 
Cabinit  Cyclopsedy,  and  how  he  (Doctor  Larner)  told  lier  that,  on 
his  honner,  it  was  under  ten  thowsnd. 

You  may  guess  that  tlie  Doctor,  v.hen  he  made  this  speach,  was 
pretty  far  gone.  The  fact  is,  that  whether  it  was  the  coronation, 
or  the  goodness  of  the  wine  (cappitle  it  is  in  our  house,  /  can  tell 
you),  or  the  natral  propensaties  of  the  gests  assembled,  wliich  made 
them  so  igspecially  jolly,  I  don't  know ;  but  they  had  kep  up  the 
meating  pretty  late,  and  our  poar  butler  was  quite  tired  with  the 


340    MEMOIRS    OF    MR.  C.  J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

perpechiial  baskits  of  clarrit  "which  he'd  been  called  upon  to  bring 
up.  So  that  about  11  o'clock,  if  I  were  to  say  they  were  merry,  I 
should  use  a  mild  term ;  if  I  wer  to  say  they  were  intawsicated,  I 
shovdd  use  an  igspresshn  more  near  to  the  truth,  but  less  rispeckful 
in  one  of  my  situashn. 

The  cumpany  reseaved  this  annountsmint  with  mute  extonish 
ment. 

"  Pray,  Doctor  Lamder,"  says  a  spiteful  genlmn,  willing  to  keep 
up  the  littery  conversation,  "  what  is  the  Cabinet  Cyclopaedia  1 ' 

"It's  the  littherary  wontherr  of  the  wurrld,"  says  he;  "and 
sure  your  Lordship  must  have  seen  it ;  the  latther  numbers  ispicially 
— cheap  as  durrt,  bound  in  gleezed  calico,  six  shillings  a  vollum. 
The  illusthriovis  ncems  of  Walther  Scott,  Thomas  Moore,  Docther 
Southey,  Sir  James  Mackintosh,  Docther  Donovan,  and  meself,  are 
to  be  found  in  the  list  of  conthributors.  It's  the  Phaynix  of 
Cyclopajies — a  litherary  Bacon." 

"  A  what  1 "  says  the  genlmn  nex  to  him. 

"  A  Bacon,  shining  in  the  darkness  of  our  age  ;  fild  wid  the  pure 
end  lambent  flame  of  science,  burning  with  the  gorrgeous  scin- 
tillations of  divine  litherature — a  monumintum  in  fact,  are  per- 
innius,  bound  in  ])ink  calico,  six  shillings  a  vollum." 

"  This  wigmawole,"  said  Mr.  Bulwig  (who  seemed  rather  dis- 
gusted that  his  friend  should  take  up  so  much  of  the  convassation), 
"  this  wigmawole  is  all  vewy  well ;  but  it's  cuwious  that  you  don't 
wemember,  in  chawactewising  the  litewawy  mewits  of  the  various 
magazines,  cwonicles,  we^-iews,  and  encyclopaedias,  the  existence  of 
a  cwitical  weviow  and  litowawy  chwonicle,  which,  though  the  sewa 
of  its  a]»iieawance  is  dated  only  at  a  vewy  few  months  pwevious  to 
the  pwesent  pewiod,  is,  nevertheless,  so  wemarkable  for  its  intwinsic 
mewits  as  to  be  wead,  not  in  the  metwopolis  alone,  but  in  the 
countwy — not  in  Fwance  merely,  but  in  the  west  of  Euwope — 
whewever  our  pure  Wenglish  is  spoken,  it  stwetches  its  peaceful 
sceptre — pewused  in  Ame^\^ca,  fwom  New  York  to  Niagawa — we- 
pwinted  in  Canada,  from  Montweal  to  Towonto — and,  as  I  am 
gwatified  to  hear  fwom  my  fwend  the  governor  of  Cape  Coast  Castle, 
wegularly  weceived  in  Afwica,  and  twanslated  into  the  Mandingo 
language  by  the  missiona\\'ies  and  the  bushwangers.  I  need  not 
say,  gentlemen — sir — that  is,  Mr.  Speaker — I  mean,  Sir  John — 
that  I  allude  to  the  Litewawy  Cliwonicle,  of  which  I  have  the 
honour  to  be  pwincipal  contwibutor." 

"  Very  true,  my  dear  Mr.  Bullwig,"  says  my  master :  "  you  and 
I  being  Whigs,  must  of  course  stand  by  our  own  friends ;  and  I  will 
agree,  without  a  moment's  hesitation,  that  the  Literary  wliat-d"ye- 
call-'em  is  the  prince  of  periodicals." 


MR.  YELLOWPLUSH'S    AJEW  341 

"The  Pwiuce  of  pewiodicals  1"  says  Bullwigj  "my  dear  Sir 
John,  it's  the  empewow  of  the  pwess." 

"*S'o?V, — let  it  be  the  emperor  of  the  press,  as  you  poetically 
call  it :  but,  between  ourselves,  confess  it,— Do  not  the  Tory  writ(;rs 
beat  your  Whigs  hollow?  You  talk  about  magazines.  Look 
at " 

"  Look  at  hwat  1 "  shouts  out  Larder,  "  There's  none,  Sir  Jan, 
compared  to  ourrs." 

"Pardon  nie,  I  think  that " 

"  It  is  '  Bcntley's  Mislany  '  you  mane  1 "  says  Ignatius,  as  sharp 
as  a  niddle. 

"Why,  no;  but " 

"  0  thin,  it's  Co'burn,  sure  ;  and  that  divvle  Thayodor — a  pretty 
paper,  sir,  but  light — thrashy,  milk-and-wathery — not  sthrong,  like 
the  Litherary  Cliran — good  luck  to  it." 

"  Why,  Doctor  Larnder,  I  was  going  to  tell  at  once  the  name  of 
the  periodical, — it  is  Feaser's  Mac4azine." 

"  Freser  !  "  says  the  Doctor,     "  0  thunder  and  turf !  " 

"  FwASER  !  "  says  Bullwig,  "  0 — ah — hum — haw — yes — no- 
why, — that  is  weally — no,  weally,  upon  my  weputation,  I  never 
before  heard  the  name  of  the  pewiodical.  By-the-bye,  Sir  John, 
what  wemarkable  good  clawet  this  is  ;  is  it  Lawose  or  Latf ? '' 

Laft",  indeed  !  he  cooden  git  beyond  laff;  and  I'm  blest  if  I  could 
kip  it  neither, — for  hearing  him  pretend  ignurnts,  and  being  behind 
the  skreend,  settlin  sumthink  for  the  genlmn,  I  bust  into  such  a  raw 
of  laffing  as  never  was  igseeded. 

"  Hullo  !  "  says  Bullwig,  turning  red,  "  Have  I  said  anything 
impwobable,  aw  widiculous  ?  for,  weally,  I  never  befaw  wecoUect  to 
have  heard  in  society  such  a  twemendous  peal  of  cachinnation — that 
which  the  twagic  bard  who  fought  at  Mawathon  has  called  an  ane- 
tvitkmon  gelastJia." 

"  Why,  be  the  holy  piper,"  says  Larder,  "  I  think  you  are 
dthrawing  a  little  on  your  imagination.  Not  read  Fraser  I  Don't 
believe  him,' my  Lord  Duke  :  he  reads  every  word  of  it,  the  rogue  ! 
Tiie  boys  about  that  magazine  baste  him  as  if  he  M'as  a  sack  of  oat- 
male.  My  reason  for  crying  out,  Sir  Jan,  was  because  you  mintioned 
Fraser  at  all.  Bullwig  has  every  syllable  of  it  be  heart — from  the 
paillitix  down  to  the  '  Yellowplush  Correspondence.'  * 

"  Ha,  ha  !  "  says  Bullwig,  affecting  to  latf  (you  may  be  sure 
my  years  prickt  up  when  I  heard  the  name  of  the  "  Yellowplush 
Correspondence"),  "  Ha,  ha  !  why,  to  tell  twuth,  I  have  wead  the 
cowespondence  to  which  you  allude :  it's  a  gweat  favowite  at  Court. 
I  was  talking  with  Spwing  Wice  and  Jolm  Wussel  about  it  tho 
other  day." 


342     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.   J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

"Well,  and  what  do  you  think  of  it?"  says  Sir  John,  looking 
mity  waggish — for  he  knew  it  was  me  who  roat  it. 

"Why,  weally  and  twnly,  there's  considewable  cleverness  about 
the  cweature ;  but  it's  low,  disgustingly  low  :  it  violates  pwobability, 
and  the  orthogwaphy  is  so  carefully  inaccuwate,  that  it  requires  a 
positive  study  to  compwehend  it." 

"  Yes,  faith,"  says  Earner;  "  the  arthagraphy  is  detestible  ;  it's 
as  bad  for  a  man  to  write  bad  spillin  as  it  is  for  'em  to  speak  wid  a 
brrogue.  Iducation  furst,  and  ganius  afterwards.  Your  health,  my 
Lord,  and  good  luck  to  you." 

"  Yaw  wemark,"  says  Bullwig,  "  is  very  appwopwiate.  You 
will  wecollect,  Sir  John,  in  Hewodotus  (as  for  you.  Doctor,  you 
know  more  about  Iwish  than  about  Gweek), — you  will  wecollect, 
without  doubt,  a  stowy  nawwated  by  tliat  cwedulous  though  fasci- 
nating chwonicler,  of  a  certain  kind  of  slieep  which  is  known  only  in 
a  certain  distwict  of  Awabia,  and  of  whicli  the  tail  is  so  enormous, 
that  it  either  dwaggles  on  tlie  gwouiid,  or  is  bound  up  by  the 
shepherds  of  the  country  into  a  small  wheelbawwow,  or  cart,  which 
makes  the  chwonicler  sneewingly  wemark  that  thus  '  the  sheep  of 
Awabia  have  their  own  chawiots.'  I  have  often  thought,  sir  (this 
clawet  is  weally  nectaweous) — I  have  often,  I  say,  thought  that  the 
wace  of  man  may  be  compawed  to  these  Awabian  sheep — genius  is 
our  tail,  education  our  wheelbawwow.  Without  art  and  education 
to  pwop  it,  this  genius  dwops  on  tlie  gwoiind,  and  is  polluted  by  the 
mud,  or  injiu-ed  by  the  wocks  upon  the  way  :  with  tlie  wheelbawwov/ 
it  is  stwengthened,  incweased,  and  supported — a  pwide  to  the  owner, 
a  blessing  to  mankind." 

"  A  very  appropriate  simile,"  says  Sir  John  ;  "  and  I  am  afraid 
that  the  genius  of  our  friend  Yellowplush  has  need  of  some  such 
support." 

"  A  propos"  said  Bullwig,  "who  is  Yellowplush  ?  I  was  given 
to  understand  that  the  name  was  only  a  fictitious  one,  and  that  tlie 
papers  were  written  by  the  author  of  the  '  Diary  of  a  Physician ; ' 
if  so,  the  man  has  wonderfidly  improved  in  style,  an<l  there  is  some 
hope  of  him." 

"  Bah  !  "  says  the  Duke  of  Doublejowl ;  "  everybody  knows  it's 
Barnard,  the  celebrated  author  of  '  Sani  Slick.'  " 

"  Pardon,  my  dear  duke,"  says  Lord  Bagwig;  "it's  the  authoress 
of  '  High  Life,'  '  Almack's,'  and  other  fasnionabla  novels." 

"  Fiddlestick's  end  !  "  says  Doctor  Earner  ;  "  don't  be  blushing 
and  pretinding  to  ask  questions  :  don't  we  know  you,  Bullwig  1  It's 
you  yourself,  you  thief  of  the  world  :  we  smoked  you  from  the  very 
beginning." 

BuUwdg  was  about  indignantly  to  reply,  when  Sir  John  inter- 


MR.  YELLOWPLUSH'S    AJEW  343 

rupted  them,  and  said, — "  I  must  correct  you  all,  gentlemen ;  Mr. 
Yellowplush  is  no  other  than  Mr.  Yellowjtlush  :  he  gave  you,  my 
dear  Bulhvig,  your  last  glass  of  champagne  at  dinner,  and  is  novr  an 
inmate  of  my  house,  and  an  ornament  of  my  kitchen  !  " 

"  Gad  !  "  says  Doublejowl,  "  let's  have  him  up." 

"  Hear,  hear  !  "  says  Bagwig. 

"Ah,  now,"  says  Larner,  "your  Grace  is  not  going  to  call  up 
and  talk  to  a  footman,  sure  1     Is  it  gintale  1 " 

"  To  say  the  least  of  it,"  says  Bulhvig,  "  tlie  pwactice  is  iwwe- 
gular,  and  indecowous ;  and  I  weally  don't  see  how  tin;  interview 
can  be  in  any  way  pwolitable." 

But  the  vices  of  the  company  went  against  the  two  littery  men, 
and  everybody  excep  them  was  for  having  up  poor  me.  The  bell 
was  wrung ;  butler  came.  "  Send  up  Charles,"  says  master  ;  and 
Charles,  who  was  standing  behind  the  skreand,  was  persnly  abliged 
to  come  in. 

"  Charles,"  says  master,  "  I  have  been  telling  these  gentlemen 
who  is  the  author  of  the  'Yellowiilush  Correspondence'  in  Fraset^'s 
Magazine." 

"  It's  the  best  magazine  in  Europe,"  says  the  Duke. 

"  And  no  mistake,"  says  my  Lord. 

"  Hwhat !  "  says  Larner  ;  "  and  where's  the  Litherary  Chran  1 " 

I  said  myself  nothink,  but  made  a  bough,  and  blusht  like  pickle- 
cabbitch. 

"Mr.  Yellowplush,"  says  his  Grace,  "will  you,  in  the  first  place, 
drink  a  glass  of  wine  ?  " 

I  boughed  agin. 

"  And  what  wine  do  you  prefer,  sir, — humble  port  or  imperial 
burgundy  1 " 

"Why,  your  Grace,"  says  I,  "I  know  my  i)lace,  and  ain't  above 
kitchin  wines.  I  will  take  a  gkss  of  port,  and  drink  it  to  the  health 
of  this  honrabble  compny." 

When  I'd  swigged  off  the  bumper,  which  his  Grace  himself  did 
me  the  honour  to  jjour  out  for  me,  there  was  a  silints  for  a  minnit ; 
when  my  master  said  : — 

"  Charles  Yellowplush,  I  have  i)erused  your  memoirs  in  Fraser's 
Magazine  with  so  much  curiosity,  and  have  so  high  an  opinion  of 
your  talents  as  a  writer,  that  I  really  cannot  keep  you  as  a  footman 
any  longer,  or  allow  you  to  discharge  duties  for  which  you  are  now 
quite  unfit.  With  all  my  admiration  for  your  talents,  Mr.  Yellow- 
plush, I  still  am  confident  that  many  of  your  friends  in  the  servants' 
hall  will  clean  my  boots  a  great  deal  better  than  a  gentleman  of 
your  genius  can  ever  be  expected  to  do — it  is  for  this  purpose  I 
employ  footmen,  and  not  that  they  may  be  writing  articles  in  maga- 


344     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.   J.  YELLOAVPLUSH 

zines.  But — you  need  not  look  so  red,  my  good  fellow,  and  had 
better  take  another  glass  of  port — I  don't  wish  to  throw  you  upon 
the  wide  world  without  the  means  of  a  livelihood,  and  have  made 
interest  for  a  little  plaee  which  you  will  have  under  Crovernmcnt, 
and  which  will  give  you  an  income  of  eighty  pounds  per  annum ; 
which  you  can  double,  I  presume,  by  your  literary  labours." 

"Sir,"  says  I,  clasping  my  hands,  and  busting  into  tears,  "do 
not — for  Heaven's  sake,  do  not ! — think  of  any  such  think,  or  drive 
rae  from  your  suvvice,  because  I  have  been  fool  enough  to  write  in 
magaseens.  Glans  but  one  moment  at  your  honour's  plate — every 
spoon  is  as  bright  as  a  mirror ;  condysend  to  igsamine  your  shoes — 
your  honour  may  see  reflected  in  thena  the  fases  of  every  one  in  the 
company.  /  blacked  them  shoes,  /  cleaned  that  there  plate.  If 
occasionally  I've  forgot  the  footman  in  the  litterary  man,  and  com- 
mitted to  paper  my  reuiiudicouccs  uf  fashnabltle  life,  it  Avas  from  a 
sincere  desire  to  do  good,  and  promote  noUitch  :  and  I  a])peal  to 
your  honour, — I  lay  my  hand  on  my  busm,  and  in  the  fase  of  this 
noble  comi)any  beg  you  to  say.  When  you  rung  your  bell,  who  came 
to  you  fust  1  When  you  stopt  out  at  Brooks's  till  morning,  who  sat 
lip  for  you  ?  When  you  was  ill,  who  forgot  the  natral  dignities  of 
his  station,  and  answered  the  two-pair  bell?  Oli,  sir,"  says  I,  "I 
know  what's  what ;  don't  send  nie  away.  I  know  them  littery 
chaps,  and,  beleave  me,  I'd  rather  be  a  footman.  The  work's  not  so 
hard — the  pay  is  better:  the  vittels  incompyrably  supcaror.  I  have 
but  to  clean  my  things,  and  run  my  errints,  and  you  put  clothes  on 
my  back,  and  meat  in  my  mouth.  Sir!  ]Mr.  BuUwig !  ain't  I  rightl 
shall  I  quit  mi/  station  and  sink — that  is  to  say,  rise — to  yours  ?  " 

feullwig  was  violently  affected ;  a  tear  stood  in  his  glistening  i. 
"  Yellowj)lu.sh,"'  says  he,  seizing  my  hand,  "  you  are  right.  Quit 
not  your  present  occupation ;  black  boots,  clean  knives,  wear  i)lush 
all  your  life,  but  don't  turn  literary  n>an.  Look  at  me.  I  am  the 
first  novelist  in  Euroi)e.  I  have  ranged  with  eagle  wing  over  the 
wide  regions  of  literature,  and  perched  on  every  eminence  in  its  turn. 
I  have  gazed  with  eagle  eyes  on  the  sun  of  jihilosojihy,  and 
fiithomed  the  mysterious  depths  of  the  liuinan  mind.  All  languages 
are  familiar  to  me,  all  thoughts  are  known  to  me,  all  men  under- 
stood by  me.  I  have  gathered  wisdom  from  the  honeyed  lips  of 
Plato,  as  we  wandered  in  the  gardens  of  Academes^wisdom,  too, 
from  the  mouth  of  Job  Johnson,  as  we  smoked  our  'backy  in  Seven 
Dials.  Such  nmst  be  the  studies,  and  such  is  the  mission,  in  this 
world,  of  the  Poet-Philosopher.  But  the  knowledge  is  only  empti- 
ness ;  the  initiation  is  but  misery;  the  initiated,  a  man  shunne<l  and 
bann'd  by  his  fellows.  Oh,"  said  Buliwig,  clasping  his  hands, 
and   throwing  his   fine   i's   up   to   the  chandelier,   "  the   curse  of 


MR.  YELLOWPLUSH'S    AJEW  345 

Pwometheus  descends  upon  his  wace.  Wath  and  punishment  pursue 
them  from  genewation  to  genewation  !  Wo  to  genius,  the  heaven- 
sealer,  tlie  fire-stealer !  Wo  and  thrice  bitter  desolation  !  Earth  is 
the  wock  on  which  Zeus,  wemorseless,  stwetches  his  withing  victim 
■ — men,  the  vultures  that  feed  and  fatten  on  him.  Ai,  Ai  !  it  is 
agony  eternal — gwoaning  and  solitawy  despair !  And  you.  Yellow- 
plush,  would  penetwate  these  mystewies :  you  would  waise  the 
awful  veil,  and  stand  in  the  twemendous  Pwesence.  Beware;  as 
you  value  your  peace,  beware  !  Withdwaw,  wash  Neophyte  I  For 
Heaven's  sake — 0  for  Heaven's  sake  !  " — here  he  looked  round  with 
agony — "  give  me  a  glass  of  bwandy-and- water,  for  tliis  clawet  is 
beginning  to  disagwee  with  me." 

BuUwig  having  concluded  this  sjjitch,  very  much  to  his  own 
sattasflu'kshn,  lo(jked  nnuid  to  the  comjtny  for  ai)laws,  and  then 
swigged  off  the  glass  of  brandy-and-water,  giving  a  solium  sigh  as 
he  took  the  last  gulph  ;  and  then  Doctor  Ignatius,  who  longed 
for  a  chans,  and,  in  order  to  show  his  independence,  began  flatly 
contradicting  his  friend,  addressed  me,  and  the  rest  of  the  genlmn 
present,  in  the  following  manner  : — 

"Hark  ye,"  says  he,  "r.iy  gossoon,  doan't  be  led  astliray  by 
the  nonsinse  of  that  divil  of  a  Bullwig.  He's  jillous  of  ye,  my  bhoy  : 
that's  the  rale  undoubted  thinith ;  and  it's  only  to  keep  you  out  of 
litherary  life  that  he's  palavering  you  in  this  way.  I'll  tell  you 
what — Plush,  ye  blackguard, — my  honourable  frind  the  miml)er 
there  has  told  me  a  bunder  times  by  the  smallest  computation,  of  his 
intense  admiration  of  your  talents,  and  the  wonderful  sthir  they  were 
making  in  the  world.  He  can't  bear  a  rival.  He's  mad  with  envy, 
hatred,  oncharatableness.  Look  at  him,  Plush,  and  look  at  me.  My 
father  was  not  a  juke  exactly,  nor  aven  a  markis,  and  see,  neverthe- 
liss,  to  what  a  pitch  I  am  come.  I  spare  no  ixpinse ;  I'm  the  iditor 
of  a  cople  of  pariodicals  ;  I  dthrive  aliout  in  me  carridge  ;  I  dine  wid 
the  lords  of  the  land  ;  and  why — in  the  name  of  the  piper  that  pleed 
before  Mosus,  hwy  1  Because  I'm  a  litherary  man.  Because  I  know 
how  to  play  me  cards.  Because  I'm  Docther  Lamer,  in  fact,  and 
mimber  of  every  society  in  and  out  of  Europe.  I  might  have  re- 
mained all  my  life  in  Thrinity  Colledge,  and  never  made  such  an 
incom  as  that  offered  you  by  Sir  Jan  ;  but  I  came  to  London — to 
London,  my  boy,  and  now  see  !  Look  again  at  me  friend  Bullwig. 
He  is  a  gentleman,  to  be  sure,  ami  bad  luck  to  'im,  say  I ;  and 
what  has  been  the  result  of  his  litherary  labour  ?  I'll  tell  you  what ; 
and  I'll  tell  this  gintale  society,  by  the  shade  of  Saint  Patrick,  they're 
going  to  make  him  a  baeinet  !  " 

"  A  BAENET,  Doctor  !  "  says  I ;  "  you  don't  mean  to  say  they're 
going  to  make  him  a  barnet !  " 


346      MEMOIRS    OF   ME,  C.  J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

"  As  sure  as  I've  made  meself  a  docthor,"  says  Lamer. 

"  What,  a  baronet,  like  Sir  John  ?  " 

"The  divlea  bit  else." 

"  And  pray  what  for  ? " 

"What  faw?"  says  Bullwig.  "Ask  the  histowy  of  litwatuwe 
what  faw?  Ask  Colbiirn,  ask  Bentley,  ask  Saunders  and  Otley, 
ask  the  gTA-eat  Bwitisli  nation,  what  law  1  The  blood  in  my  veins 
comes  puwificd  thwough  ten  thousand  years  of  chivalwous  ancestwy  ; 
but  that  is  neither  here  nor  there  :  my  political  pwinciples — the 
equal  wights  which  I  have  advocated — the  gweat  cause  of  fweedom 
that  I  have  celebwated,  are  knoA\ni  to  all.  But  this,  I  confess,  has 
nothing  to  do  with  the  question.  No,  the  question  is  this — on  the 
thwone  of  litewature  I  stand  unwivalled,  pwe-eminent ;  and  the 
Bwitish  government,  honowing  genius  in  me,  compliments  the 
Bwitish  nation  by  lifting  into  the  bosom  of  the  heweditawy  nobility 
the  most  gifted  member  of  the  democwacy."  (The  honrabble 
genlmn  here  sunk  down  amidst  repeated  cheers.) 

"Sir  John,"  says  I,  "and  my  Lord  Duke,  the  words  of  my 
rivrint  frend  Ignatius,  and  the  remarks  of  the  honrabble  genlmn 
who  has  just  sate  down,  have  made  me  change  the  detummination 
which  I  had  the  honor  of  igspressing  just  now. 

"  I  igscpt  the  eighty  pound  a  year ;  knowing  that  I  shall  have 
plenty  of  time  for  pursuing  my  littery  career,  and  hoping  some  day 
to  set  on  that  same  bentcli  of  barranites,  which  is  deckarated  by 
the  presnts  of  my  honrabble  friend. 

"  Why  shooden  I  ?  It's  trew  I  ain't  done  anythink  as  i/et  to 
deserve  such  an  honour ;  and  it's  very  probable  that  I  never  shall. 
But  Avhat  then  ? — tpiaw  dong,  as  our  friends  say  ?  I'd  much  raytlier 
have  a  eoat-ot-arms  than  a  coat  of  livry.  I'd  much  rayther  have 
my  blud-red  hand  spralink  in  the  middle  of  a  shield,  than  under- 
neatli  a  tea-tray.  A  barrauit  I  will  be ;  and,  in  consiquints,  must 
cease  to  be  a  footmin. 

"  As  to  my  politticle  princepills,  these,  I  confess,  ain't  settled : 
they  are,  I  know,  necessary ;  but  they  ain't  necessarj''  until  askt 
for;  besides,  I  reglar  read  the  Sattarist  newspaper,  and  so  igni- 
rince  on  this  pint  would  be  iuigscusable. 

"  But  if  one  man  can  git  to  be  a  doctor,  and  another  a  barranit, 
and  another  a  capting  in  the  navy,  and  another  a  countess,  and 
another  the  wife  of  a  governor  of  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  I  begin 
to  perseave  that  the  littery  trade  ain't  such  a  very  bad  un  :  igspe- 
cially  if  you're  up  to  snough,  and  know  what's  o'clock.  Ill  learn 
to  make  myself  usefle,  in  the  fust  place ;  then  I'll  lam  to  spell ; 
and,  I  trust,  by  reading  the  novvles  of  the  honrabble  member, 
and  the  scientafick  treatiseses  of  the  reverend  doctor,  I  may  'find 


MR.  YELLOWPLUSH'S    AJEW  347 

the  secrit  of  suxess,  and  git  a  litell  for  my  own  share.  I've  sevral 
frends  in  the  press,  having  paid  for  many  of  those  cliai)s'  drink,  and 
given  them  other  treets ;  and  so  I  think  I've  got  all  the  emileuts 
of  siixess ;  therefore,  I  am  detummined,  as  I  said,  to  igsept  your 
kind  offer,  and  beg  to  ■withdraw  the  wuds  which  I  made  yous  of 

wdien  I  refyoused  your  hoxj)atable  offer.     I  must,  however " 

"I  wish  you'd  withdraw  yourself"  said  Sir  John,  bursting  into 
a  most  igstrorinary  rage,  "and  not  interrupt  the  company  with 
your  infernal  talk  !  Go  down,  and  get  us  coffee  :  and,  heark  ye .' 
hold  your  impertinent  tongue,  or  I'll  break  every  bone  in  your 
body.  You  shall  have  the  place  as  I  said ;  and  while  you're  in 
my  service,  you  shall  1)6  my  servant ;  but  you  don't  stay  in  my 
service  after  to-morrow.  Go  downstairs,  sir;  and  don't  stand 
staring  here  ! " 


^o 


In  this  al)rupt  way,  my  evening  ended  :  it's  with  a  melancholy 
regret  that  I  think  what  came  of  it.  I  don't  wear  plush  any 
more.     I  am  an  altered,  a  wiser,  and,  I  trust,  a  better  man. 

I'm  about  a  novvle  (having  made  gi-eat  pro.giiss  in  spelling),  in 
the  style  of  my  friend  BuUwig  ;  and  preparing  for  ])ubligation,  in 
the  Doctor's  Cyclopedear,  "The  Lives  of  Eminent  Brittish  and 
Foring  Wosherwomen." 


SKIMMINGS  FROM  ''THE  DAIRY 
OF  GEORGE  IV." 

Charles  Yellowplush,  Esq.,  to  Oliver  Yorke,  Esq.* 

DEAR  WHY, — Trtkin  advantage  of  the  Crismiss  holydays,  Sir 
John  and  nie  (who  is  a  member  of  parlyment)  had  gone 
down  to  onr  place  in  York.sliire  for  six  wicks,  to  shoot  grows 
and  "woodcox,  and  enjoy  old  English  hospitalaty.  This  ugly  Canady 
bisniss  unlnckaly  put  an  end  to  our  sports  in  the  country,  and  brot 
us  up  to  Buckly  Ssiuare  as  fast  as  four  i)Osterses  could  gallip. 
When  there,  I  found  your  parcel,  containing  the  two  vollumes  of  a 
new  book ;  witch,  as  I  have  been  away  from  the  literary  world,  and 
emplied  solely  in  athlatic  exorcises,  have  been  laying  neglected  in 
my  pantry,  among  my  knife-cloaths,  and  dekanters,  and  blacking- 
bottles,  and  bedroom  candles,  and  things. 

This  will,  I'm  sure,  account  for  my  delay  in  notussing  the 
w'ork.  I  see  sefral  of  the  ]iapers  and  magazcens  have  been  befoar- 
hand  with  me,  and  have  given  their  apinions  concerning  it :  specially 
the  Quothj  Kevew,  which  has  most  mussilessly  cut  to  peases  the 
author  of  this  Dairy  of  the  Times  of  George  /r.f 

That  it's  a  woman  who  Avrotc  it  is  evydent  from  the  style  of  the 
writing,  as  well  as  from  certain  proofs  in  the  book  itself.  Most 
suttnly  a  femail  wrote  this  Dairy  ;  but  who  this  Dairy-maid  may 
be,  I,  in  coarse,  can't  coujccter :  and  indeed,  common  galliantry 
forbids  me  to  ask.  I  can  only  judge  of  the  book  itself;  which,  it 
appears  to  me,  is  clearly  trenching  upon  my  ground  anil  favrite 

*  These  Memoirs  were  originally  published  in  Fraser's  Magazine,  and  it  may 
be  stated  for  the  benefit  of  the  unlearned  in  such  matters  that  "  Oliver  Yorke" 
is  the  assumed  name  of  the  editor  of  that  periodical. 

t  Diary  illustrative  of  the  Times  of  George  the  Fourth,  interspersed  with 
Original  Lettei's  from  the  late  Queen  Caroline,  and  from  various  other  distin- 
guished Persons. 

"  Tot  ou  tard,  tout  se  s^ait." — Maixtenon. 
In  2  vols.     Loudou,  1S3S.     Ueury  Colburn, 


THE    DAIRY    OF    GEORGE    IV.  349 

subjicks,  viz.  fashuabble  life,  as  igsibited  in  the  houses  of  the 
nobility,  gentry,  and  rile  fammly. 

But  I  bare  no  mallis — infamation  is  infamation,  and  it  doesn't 
matter  where  the  infamy  comes  fi'om  ;  and  whether  the  Dairy  be 
from  that  distinguished  pen  to  witch  it  is  ornarily  attributed — 
whether,  I  say,  it  comes  from  a  lady  of  honour  to  the  late  Quean, 
or  a  scullion  to  that  diflfunct  majisty,  no  matter :  all  we  ask  is 
nollidge ;  never  mind  how  we  have  it.  NoUidge,  as  our  cook  says, 
is  like  trikel-possit — it's  always  good,  though  you  was  to  drink  it 
out  of  an  old  shoo. 

Well,  then,  although  this  Dairy  is  likely  searusly  to  injur  my 
pussonal  intrests,  by  fourstalling  a  deal  of  what  I  had  to  say  in  my 
private  memoars — though  many  many  guineas  is  taken  from  my 
pockit,  by  cuttin  short  the  tail  of  my  narratif — though  much  that  I 
had  to  say  in  souperior  languidge,  greased  with  all  the  ellygance  of 
my  orytory,  the  benefick  of  my  classcle  reading,  the  chawms  of  my 
agreble  wit,  is  thus  abruply  brot  befor  the  world  by  an  inferior 
genus,  neither  knowing  nor  writing  English ;  yet  I  say,  that 
nevertheless  I  must  say,  what  I  am  puffickly  prepaired  to  say,  to 
gainsay  which  no  man  can  say  a  word— yet  I  say,  that  I  say  I 
consider  this  publication  welkom.  Far  from  viewing  it  with  enfy, 
I  greet  it  with  applaws ;  because  it  increases  that  most  exlent 
specious  of  nollidge,  I  mean  "  Fashnabble  Nollidge  : "  compayred 
to  witch  all  other  nolli(]ge  is  nonsince — a  bag  of  goold  to  a  pare  of 
snuffers. 

Could  Lord  Broom,  on  the  Canady  question,  say  moar?  or  say 
what  he  had  tu  say  better?  We  are  marters,  both  of  us,  to 
jjrinsple ;  and  everybody  who  knows  eather  knows  that  we  would 
sacrafice  anythink  rather  tlian  that.  Fashion  is  the  goddiss  I  adoar. 
This  delightful  work  is  an  otfring  on  her  srine ;  and  as  sich  all 
her  -R^jshippers  are  bound  to  hail  it.  Here  is  not  a  question  of 
trumpry  lords  and  honrabbles,  generals  and  barronites,  but  the 
crown  itself,  and  the  king  and  queen's  actions ;  witch  may  be  con- 
sidered as  the  crown  jewels.  Here's  princes,  and  grand-<lukes,  and 
airsparent,  and  Heaven  knows  what ;  all  with  blood-royal  in  their 
veins,  and  their  names  mentioned  in  the  very  fust  page  of  the 
peeridge.  In  this  book  you  become  so  intmate  with  the  Prince 
of  Wales,  that  you  may  follow  him,  if  you  please,  to  his  marridge- 
bed ;  or,  if  you  prefer  the  Princiss  Chariotte,  you  may  have  with 
her  an  hour's  tator-tator.* 

Now,  though  most  of  the  remarkable  extrax  from  this  book 
have  been  given  already  (the  cream  of  the  Dairy,  as  I  wittily  say), 

*  Our  estimable  correspondent  means,  -n-o  presume,  feic-u-'Ste. — 0.  Y. 


350    MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.  J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

1  shall  trouble  you,  nevertheless,  with  a  few ;  partly  because  they 
can't  be  repeated  too  often,  and  because  the  toan  of  obsyration 
with  which  they  have  been  genrally  received  by  the  press,  is  not 
igsackly  such  as  I  think  they  merit.  How,  indeed,  can  these 
common  magaseen  and  newspaper  pipple  know  anythink  of  fash- 
nabble  life,  let  alone  ryal  ? 

Conseaving,  then,  that  tlie  publication  of  the  Dairy  has  done  reel 
good  on  this  scoar,  and  may  probly  do  a  deal  moor,  I  shall  look 
through  it,  for  the  porpus  of  selecting  the  most  ellygant  passidges,  and 
which  I  think  may  be  peculiarly  adapted  to  the  reader's  benefick. 

For  you  see,  my  dear  Mr.  Yorke,  in  the  fust  place,  that  this  is 
no  common  catchpny  book,  like  that  of  most  authors  and  authoresses 
who  write  for  the  base  looker  of  gain.  Heaven  bless  you !  the  Dairy- 
maid is  above  anything  musnary.  She  is  a  woman  of  rank,  and  no 
mistake ;  and  is  as  much  above  tloin  a  common  or  vulgar  action  as 
I  am  superaor  to  taking  beer  after  dinner  with  my  cheese.  She 
proves  that  most  satisfackarily,  as  we  see  in  the  following  passidge  : — 

"Her  Royal  Highness  came  to  me,  and  having  spoken  a  few 
phrases  on  different  subjects,  produced  all  the  papers  she  wishes 
to    have    i)ublis]i(>d :    her   whole    correspondence   with    the    Prince 

relative  to  Lady  J- -'s  dismissal ;  liis  subsequent  neglect  of  the 

Princess;  and,  finally,  the  ac(iuittal  of  her  supposed  guilt,  signed 
by  the  Duke  of  Portland,  «S:c.,  at  the  time  of  the  secret  inquiry : 
when,  if  proof  could  have  been  brought  against  her,  it  certainly 
would  have  been  done ;  and  which  acquittal,  to  the  disgrace  of  all 
parties  concerned,  as  well  as  to  the  justice  of  the  nation  in  general, 
was  not  made  public  at  the  time.  A  common  criminal  is  publicly 
condemned  or  actjuittod.  Her  Royal  Highness  conunanded  me  to 
have  these  letters  i)ul)lislu'(l  forthwith,  saying,  'You  may  sell  them 
for  a  great  sum.'  At  first  (for  slie  had  spoken  to  me  before  con- 
cerning this  business),  I  thnuglit  of  availing  myself  of  the  oppor- 
tunity ;  but,  upon  second  tlu)uglits,  I  turned  from  this  idea  witli 
detestation  :  for,  if  I  do  wrong  by  obeying  her  wishes  and  endeavour- 
ing to  serve  her,  I  will  do  so  at  least  from  good  and  disinterestetl 
motives,  not  from  any  sordid  views.  The  Princess  connnands  me, 
and  I  will  obey  her,  whatever  may  be  the  issue ;  but  not  for  fare 
or  fee.  I  own  I  tremble,  not  so  much  for  myself,  as  for  the  idea 
that  she  is  not  taking  the  best  and  most  dignified  way  of  having 
these  papers  published.  Why  make  a  secret  of  it  at  all  ?  If 
wrong,  it  should  not  be  done ;  if  right,  it  should  be  done  openly, 
and  in  the  face  of  her  enemies.  In  Her  Royal  Highness's  case,  as 
in  that  of  wronged  princes  in  general,  why  do  they  shrink  from 
straiglitforward  dealings,  and  rather  have  recourse  to  crooked  policy? 


THE    DAIRY    OF    GEORGE    IV.  351 

I  wish,  ill  this  particular  instance,  I  could  make  Her  Royal  Highness 
feel  thus :  but  she  is  naturally  indignant  at  being  fafsely  accused, 
and  will  not  condescend  to  an  avowed  explanation." 

Can  anythink  be  more  just  and  honrabble  than  this?  The 
Dairy-lady  is  quite  fair  and  abovebored.  A  clear  stage,  says  she, 
and  no  foviour  !  "I  won't  do  behind  my  back  what  I  am  ashamed 
of  before  my  face  :  not  I ! "  No  more  she  does  ;  for  you  see  that, 
though  she  was  offered  this  many  scrip  by  the  Princess  for  nothink, 
though  she  knew  that  she  could  actially  get  for  it  a  large  sum  of 
money,  she  was  above  it,  like  an  honest,  nol)le,  grateful,  foshnabble 
woman,  as  she  was.  She  aboars  secrecy,  and  never  will  have  recors 
to  disguise  or  crookid  polacy.  Tliis  ought  to  be  an  ansure  to  them 
Radicle  sneerers,  who  pretend  that  they  are  the  equals  of  fashnabble 
pepple  ;  whereas  it's  a  well-known  fact,  that  the  vulgar  roagues  have 
no  notion  of  honour. 

And  after  this  positif  declaration,  which  reflex  honor  on  her 
Ladyship  (long  life  to  her  !  V\e  often  waited  behind  her  chair !) — 
after  this  positif  declaration,  that,  even  for  the  porpus  of  defendlmj 
her  missis,  she  was  so  hi-minded  as  to  refuse  anythink  like  a  pecu- 
liarly consideration,  it  is  actially  asserted  in  the  public  prints  by  a 
booxeller,  that  he  has  given  lier  a  thousand  poimd  for  the  Dairy. 
A  thousand  pound  !  nonsince  ! — it's  a  phigment !  a  base  lible  !  This 
woman  take  a  thousand  pound,  in  a  matter  wliere  her  dear  mistriss, 
friend,  and  benyfoctriss  was  concerned  !  Never  !  A  thousand  bag- 
gonits  would  be  more  prefrabble  to  a  woman  of  her  xqizzit  feelins 
and  fashion. 

But  to  proseed.  It's  been  objected  to  me,  when  I  wrote  some 
of  my  expearunces  in  fashnabble  life,  that  my  languidge  was  occa- 
sionally vulgar,  and  not  such  as  is  generally  used  in  those  exquizzit 
famlies  which  I  frequent.  Now,  I'll  lay  a  wager  tliat  there  is  in 
this  book,  wrote  as  all  the  world  knows  by  a  rele  lady,  and  speakin 
of  kings  and  queens  as  if  they  were  as  common  as  sand-boys — there 
is  in  this  book  more  wulgarity  than  ever  I  displayed,  more  nastiness 
tlian  ever  I  would  dare  to  think  on,  and  more  bad*  grammar  than 
ever  I  wrote  since  I  was  a  boy  at  school.  As  for  autJKigrafy,  cvry 
genlmn  has  his  own  :  never  mind  spellin,  I  say,  so  long  as  the  sence 
is  right. 

Let  me  here  quot  a  letter  from  a  corryspondent  of  this  charming 
lady  of  honour ;  and  a  very  nice  corrysjiondent  he  is,  too,  without 
any  mistake  : — 

"Lady  0 ,  poor  Lady  0 !  knows  the  rules  of  ])nidcnce. 

I  fear  me,  as  imperfectly  as  she  doth  those  of  the  Greek  and  Latin 
4 


352     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.   J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

Grammars  :  or  she  hath  let  her  brother,  who  is  a  sad  swine,  become 
master  of  her  secrets,  and  then  contrived  to  quarrel  with  liim. 
You  would  see  the  outline  of  the  melange  in  the  newspapers ;  but 

not  the  report  that  Mr.  S is  about  to  publish  a  pamphlet,  as 

an  addition  to  the  Harleian  Tracts,  setting  forth  the  amatory  adven- 
tures of  his'sister.  "We  shall  break  our  necks  in  haste  to  buy  it,  of 
course  crying  '  Shameful '  all  the  while  :  and  it  is  said  that  Lady 

0 ■  is  to  be  cut,  which  I  cannot  entirely  believe.     Let  her  tell 

two  or  three  old  women  about  town  tliat  they  are  young  and  hand- 
some, and  give  some  well-timed  parties,  and  she  may  still  keep  the 
society  which  she  liath  been  used  to.  The  times  are  not  so  hard  as 
they  once  were,  when  a  woman  could  not  construe  Magna  Charta 
with  anything  like  impunity.  People  were  full  as  gallant  many 
years  ago.  But  the  days  are  gone  by  wherein  my  lord-protector  of 
the  commonwealtli  of  England  was  wont  to  go  a  love-making  to  Mrs. 
Fleetwood,  with  the  Bible  under  his  ann. 

"  And  so  Miss  Jacky  Gordon  is  really  clothed  with  a  husband 
at  last,  and  Miss  Laura  Manners  left  without  a  mate  !  She  and 
Lord  Stair  should  marrv  and  have  children,  in  mere  revengfe.  As 
to  Miss  Gordon,  she's  a  Venus  well  suited  for  such  a  Vulcan, — 
whom  nothing  but  money  and  a  title  could  have  rendered  tolerable, 
even  to  a  kitchen  wench.  It  is  said  that  tlie  matrimonial  corre- 
spondence between  tliis  couple  is  to  be  pubUslied,  full  of  sad  scan- 
dalous relations,  of  whieli  you  may  be  sure  scarcely  a  word  is  true. 

lu  former  times,   the  Duchess  of  St.   A s   made  use  of  these 

elegant  epistles  in  order  to  intimidate  Lady  Johnstone :  but  that 
ruse  would  not  avail ;  so  in  sjiite,  tliey  are  to  be  printed.  What  a 
cargo  of  amiable  creatures  !  Yet  will  some  people  scarcely  believe 
in  the  existence  of  Pandemonium. 

"  Tuesday  Morning. — You  are  perfectly  right  respecting  the 
hot  rooms  here,  which  we  all  cry  out  against,  and  all  find  very 
comfortable — much  more  so  than  the  cold  sands  and  bleak  neigh- 
bourhood of  the  sea;  which  looks  vastly  well  in  one  of  Van  der 
Velde's  pictures  himg  upon  crimson  damask,  but  hideous  anrl  shock- 
ing in  reality.    *H and  his  ' eUe'  (talking  of  parties)  were  last 

night  at  Cholmondeley  House,  but  seem  not  to  ripen  in  their  love. 
He  is  certainly  good-humoiu"ed,  and,  I  believe,  good-hearted,  so 
deserves  a  good  wife  ;  but  his  cara  seems  a  genuine  London  miss, 
made  up  of  many  affectations.  Will  she  form  a  comfortable  help- 
mate? For  me,  I  like  not  her  origin,  and  deem  many  strange 
things  to  run  in  blood,  besides  madness  and  the  Hanoverian  evil. 

"  Thursdm/. — I  verily  do  believe  that  I  shall  never  get  to  the 
end  of  this  small  sheet  of  paper,  so  many  unh.eard-of  interruptions 
have  I  had  ;  and  now  I  have  been  to  Vauxliall,  and  cauglit  the 


THE    DAIRY    OF    GEORGE    IV.  353 

toothache.     I  was  of  Lady  E.  B m  and  H 's  party:  \ery 

didl — the  Lady  giving  us  all  a  supper  after  our  promenade — 

•  '  Much  ado  was  there,  God  wot 

She  would  love,  but  he  would  not' 

He  ate  a  great  deal  of  ice,  although  he  did  not  seem  to  require  it  ; 
and  she  ^faisoit  les  yeux  doux^  enough  not  only  to  have  melted 
all  the  ice  which  he  swallowed,  but  his  own  hard  heart  into  the 
bargain.  The  thing  will  not  do.  In  the  meantime,  Miss  Long 
hath  become  quite  cruel  to  Wellesley  Pole,  and  divides  lier  favour 
equally  between  Lords  Killeen  and  Kilworth,  two  as  simple  Irish- 
men as  ever  gave  birth  to  a  bull.  I  wish  to  Hymen  that  she  were 
fairly  married,  for  all  this  pother  gives  one  a  disgusting  picture  of 
human  nature." 

A  dLsgusting  jictur  of  human  nature,  indeed — and  isn't  he  who 
moralises  about  it,  and  she  to  wliom  he  wTites,  a  couple  of  pretty 
heads  in  the  same  piece  ?  Which,  Mr.  Yorke,  is  the  wust,  the 
scandle  or  the  scanrlle-mongers  ?  See  what  it  is  to  be  a  moral  man 
of  fashn.  Fust,  he  scrapes  togither  all  the  bad  stoaries  about  all 
the  people  of  lii.s  acquentance — he  goes  to  a  ball,  and  laffs  or  snears 
at  everybody  there — he  is  asked  to  a  dinner,  and  brings  away, 
along  with  meat  and  wine  to  his  heart's  content,  a  sour  stomick 
filled  wdth  nasty  stories  of  all  the  people  present  there.  He  has 
such  a  squeamish  appytite,  that  all  the  world  seems  to  disafjree 
with  him.  And  what  has  he  got  to  say  to  his  dellicate  female 
frend  ?  Why  that- 
Fast  Mr.  S.  is  going  to  publish  indescent  stoaries  about  Lady 

0 ,  his  sister,  which  everybody '-s  goin  to  by. 

Nex.  That  Miss  Gordon  is  going  to  be  cloathed  wuth  an  usband  ; 
and  that  all  their  matrimonial  corryspondins  is  to  be  published  too. 

3.  That  Lord  H.  is  going  to  be  married  :  but  there's  sometliing 
rong  in  his  wife's  blood. 

4.  Miss  Long  has  cut  !Mr.  Wellesley,  and  is  gone  after  two 
Irish  lords. 

Wooden  you  phancy,  now,  tliat  the  author  of  such  a  letter, 
instead  of  wi-itin  about  pipple  of  tip-tojt  qualaty,  was  describin 
Vinegar  Yard?  Would  you  beleave  tliat  the  lady  he  was  a-ritin 
to  was  a  chased,  modist  lad}'  of  honour,  and  mother  of  a  famly  ? 
0  trumpery  !  0  morris  !  as  Homer  says  :  this  is  a  higeous  j.ictur 
of  manners,  such  as  I  weap  to  think  of,  as  evry  morl  man  must 
weap. 

The  above  is  one  pritty  pictur  of  mearly  fashuabble  life  :  what 
follows  is  about  fimilies  even  higher  situated  than  the  most  fash- 
2  D 


354     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.  J.  YELLOWPLITSH 

iiabble.  Here  we  have  the  Princessregient,  her  daughter  the 
Princess  Sharlot,  her  graudmamma  the  old  Quean,  and  Her  ]\Iad- 
jisty's  daughters  the  two  princesses.  If  this  is  not  liigh  life,  I 
don't  know  where  it  is  to  be  found ;  and  it's  jjleasiug  to  see  wfiat 
att'eckshn  and  harmny  rains  in  such  an  exolted  spear, 

"  Sunday  2Uh. — Yesterday  the  Princess  went  to  meet  the  Prin- 
cess Charlotte  at  Kensington.      Lady •  told  me  that,   when 

the  latter  arrived,  she  rashed  up  to  her  mother,  and  said,  'For 
Clod's  sake,  be  civil  to  her/  meaning  the  Duchess  of  Leeds,  who 

followed  her.     Lsidy  said  she  felt  sorry  for  the  latter;  but 

when  the  Princess  of  AVales  talked  to  her,  she  soon  became  so  free 
and  easy,  that  one  coidd  not  have  any  feelinrf  al)out  licr  feelings. 
Princess  Charlotte,  I  was  told,  wa.s  looking  handsome,  very  pale, 
but  her  heatl  more  becomingly  dressed — that  is  to  say,  less  dressed 
than  usiuil.  Her  figure  is  of  that  full  round  shape  which  is  now  iu 
its  ]u"imc  ;  but  she  disfigiu'es  herself  by  wearing  her  bodice  so  short, 
that  she  literally  has  no  waist.  Her  feet  ai'c  very  pretty ;  and  so 
are  her  hands  and  arms,  and  her  ears,  and  the  shape  of  her  head. 
Her  countenance  is  expressive,  when  she  allows  her  passions  to 
pla.y  upon   it :    and   I   never  saw  any   face,  with   so  little  shade, 

express  so  many  ])owerful  and  varied  emotions.     Lady told 

me  tliat  the  Princess  Charlotte  talked  to  her  abtnit  her  situation, 
and  said,  in  a  veiy  quiet,  l)ut  dt'tcrmined  way,  she  }''OuhI  not  hear 
it,  and  that  as  soon  as  Parliament  met,  she  intended  to  come  to 
Warwick  House,  and  remain  there  ;  tluit  she  was  also  determined 
not  to  consider  the  Duchess  of  Leeds  as  her  r/overness,  but  only  as 
her  Jirst  lady.  She  mads  many  observations  on  other  j)ersons 
and  subjects ;  and  appears  to  be  very  quick,  very  jjenetrating,  but 
inijierions  and  wilful.  There  is  a  t.one  of  romance,  too,  in  her 
chamcter,  whicli  will  mdy  serve  io  mislead  her. 

"  She  told  her  mother  that  there  had  been  a  gi'eat  battle  at 
Windsor  between  the  Queen  and  the  Prince,  the  fonner  refusing  to 
give  up  Miss  Knight  from  her  own  pei-son  to  attend  on  Princess 
Charlotte  as  sub-governess.  But  the  Prince-Regent  had  gone  to 
WiinLsor  himself,  and  insisted  on  her  doing  so;  and  the  'old 
Beguin '  was  forced  to  submit,  but  has  been  ill  ever  since ;  and  Sir 
Hemy  Halford  declared  it  was  a  complete  breaking  up  of  her  con- 
stitution -to  the  great  delight  of  the  two  princesses,  wlio  were 
talking  about  tliis  atlair,  ^liss  Knight  was  the  very  person  they 
wished  to  luive ;  they  think  they  can  do  as  they  like  with  her.  It 
has  been  ordered  tliat  tlie  Princess  Cliarlottc  should  not  see  her 
mother  alone  for  a  single  moment ;  Init  the  latter  went  into  her 
room,  stuffed  a  pair  of  large  shoes  full  of  pajjers,  and  having  given 


THE    DAIRY   OF    GEORGE    IV.  355 

them  to  lier  daughter,  she  went  home.     Lady tokl  me  every- 
thing was  written  down  and  .sent  to  Mr.  Brougham  next  day.'' 

See  M'hat  discord  will  creap  even  into  the  best  regulated  famlies. 
Here  are  six  of  'em — viz.,  the  Quean  and  her  two  daughters,  her 
son,  and  his  wife  and  daugliter ;  and  tlie  manner  in  which  they  hate 
oiiQ  another  is  a  comi^leat  jiuzzle. 

r  his  mother. 
The  Prince  hates ....     -    his  wife. 

[  his  daughter. 
Princess  Charlotte  hates  her  father. 
Princess  of  Wales  hates  her  husband. 

The  old  Quean,  by  their  squobbles,  is  on  the  pint  of  death  ;  and 
her  two  jewtiful  daughters  are  delighted  at  the  news.  What  a 
happy,  faslmabble,  Christian  famly !  0  Mr.  Yorke,  Mr.  Yorke,  if 
this  is  the  way  in  the  drawin-rooms,  I'm  quite  content  to  live  lielow, 
in  pease  and  <'haraty  with  all  men ;  writin,  as  I  am  now,  in  my 
l^antry,  or  els  havin  a  quite  game  at  cards  in  the  servants-all.  With 
us  there's  no  bitter  wicked  quarliug  of  this  sort.  We  don't  hate 
our  children,  or  bully  our  mothers,  or  wish  'em  ded  when  they're 
sick,  as  this  Dairy-woman  says  kings  and  queens  do.  Wieu  we'i'e 
writing  to  our  friends  or  .sweethearts,  we  don't  fill  our  letters  with 
nasty  .stoaries,  takin  away  the  carricter  of  our  fellow-servants,  as 
this  maid  of  honour's  amusiu'  moral  frend  does.  But,  in  coarse,  it's 
not  for  us  to  judge  of  our  betters  ; — these  gi-eat  people  are  a  supeerur 
race,  and  we  can't  comprehend  their  ways. 

Do  you  recklect — it's  twenty  years  ago  now — how  a  bewtiflfle 
princess  died  in  givin  buth  to  a  poar  baby,  and  how  the  whole 
nation  of  Hengland  wep,  as  though  it  was  one  man,  over  that  sweet 
woman  and  child,  in  which  were  sentered  the  hopes  of  every  one  of 
us,  and  of  which  each  was  as  proud  as  of  his  own  wife  or  infut? 
Do  you  recklet  how  pore  fellows  spent  their  last  shillin  to  buy  a 
black  crape  for  their  liats,  and  clergymen  cried  in  the  pulpit,  and 
the  v/hole  country  through  was  no  better  than  a  great  dismal  fmieral  1 
Do  you  recklect,  Mr.  Yorke,  who  was  the  person  that  we  all  took 
on  so  about  1  We  called  her  the  Princis  Sharlot  of  Wales  ;  and  we 
valyoud  a  single  drop  of  her  blood  more  than  the  whole  heartless 
body  of  her  father.  Well,  we  looked  up  to  her  as  a  kind  of  saint 
or  angle,  and  blest  God  (such  foolish  loyal  English  pipple  as  we 
w^are  in  those  days)  who  had  sent  this  sweet  lady  to  rule  over  us. 
But  Heaven  bless  you  I  it  was  only  souperstition.  She  was  no 
better  than  she  should  b.e,  as  it  tiurns  out— or  at  least  the  Dairy- 


356     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.  J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

maid  says  so.  No  better  ? — if  my  daughters  or  yours  was  ^  so  bad, 
we'd  as  leaf  be  dead  oiu-selves,  and  they  hanged.  But  listen  to  this 
pritty  charritable  story,  and  a  truce  to  reflexshuns : — 

'^Sunday,  January  9,  1814. — Yesterday,  according  to  appoint- 
ment, I  went  to  Princess  Charlotte.  Found  at  Warwick  House 
the  harp-i)layer,  Dizzi ;  was  asked  to  remain  and  listen  to  his  per- 
formance, but  was  talked  to  during  the  whole  time,  which  completely 
prevented  all  possibility  of  listening  to  the  music.  The  Duchess 
of  Leeds  and  her  daughter  were  in  the  room,  but  left  it  soon.  Xext 
arrived  Miss  Knight,  who  remained  all  the  time  I  was  there. 
Princess  Charlotte  was  very  gnicious — showed  me  all  her  bonny 

dyes,  as  B would  have  called  them — pictures,  and  cases,  and 

jewels,  &c.  She  talked  in  a  very  desultory  way,  and  it  would  be 
difficult  to  say  of  what.  She  observed  her  mother  was  in  very  low 
spirits.  I  asked  her  how  she  supposed  she  could  be  otherwise? 
This  questioning  answer  saves  a  great  deal  of  trouble,  and  serves 
two  ijurposes — i.e.  avoids  committing  oneself,  or  giving  ottence  by 
silence.     There  was  hung  in  the  apartment  one  portrait,  amongst 

others,  that  very  much  resembled  the  Duke  of  D .     I  asked 

Miss  Knight  whom  it  represented.  She  said  tliat  was  not  known  ; 
it  had  been  6upi)osed  a  likeness  of  the  Pretender,  when  young. 
This  answer  suited  my  thoughts  so  comically  I  could  have  laughed, 
if  one  ever  did  at  Coiu-ts  anything  but  the  contrary  of  what  one  was 
inclined  to  do. 

''  Princess  Charlotte  has  a  very  great  variety  of  expression  in 
her  countenance — a  play  of  features,  and  a  force  of  muscle,  rarely 
seen  in  connection  with  such  soft  and  shadeless  colouring.  Her 
hands  and  arms  arc  beautiful ;  but  I  tliink  her  figure  is  already 
gone,  and  will  soon  be  precisely  like  her  mother's :  in  short  it  is 
the  very  picture  of  her,  and  not  in  miniature.  I  could  not  help 
analysing  my  own  sensations  during  the  time  I  was  with  her,  and 
thought  more  of  tliem  than  I  did  of  her.  Why  was  I  at  all  flattered, 
at  all  more  amused,  at  all  more  supple  to  this  young  princess,  than 
to  her  who  is  only  the  same  sort  of  person  set  in  the  shade  of 
circumstances  and  of  yciirs  ]  It  is  that  youth,  and  the  approach 
of  power,  and  tlie  latent  views  of  self-interest,  sway  the  heart  and 
dazzle  the  understanding.  If  this  is  so  witli  a  heart  not,  I  trust, 
corrupt,  and  a  head  not  particularly  formed  for  interested  calcula- 
tions, what  effect  nuist  not  the  same  causes  produce  on  the  generality 
of  mankind  1 

"■  In  the  course  of  the  conversation,  tlie  Princess  Charlotte  con- 
trived to  edge  in  a  good  deal  of  tuw-dc-dy.  an<l  would,  if  I  had 
entered  into  the  thing,  liavc  gone  on  with  it,  while  looking  at  a  little 


THE    DAIRY    OF    GEORGE    IV.  357 

picture  of  herself,  which  had  about  thirty  or  forty  different  dresses 
to  put  over  it,  done  on  ■isinr/lass,  and  which  allowed  tlie  general 
colouring  of  the  picture  to  be  seen  through  its  transparency.  It 
was,  I  thought,  a  pretty  enough  conceit,  though  rather  like  dressing 
up  a  doll.  '  Ah  ! '  said  Miss  Kniglit,  '  I  am  not  content  though, 
madame — for  I  yet  should  have  liked  one  more  dress — that  of  tlie 
favourite  Sultana.' 

"'No,  no!'  said  the  Princess,  *I  never  was  a  favourite,  and 
never  can  be  one ' — hooking  at  a  i)icture  Avhich  she  said  was  her 
father's,  but  which  I  do  not  believe  was  done  for  the  Regent  any 
more  than  for  me,  but  represented  a  young  man  in  a  hussar's  dress 
— probably  a  former  favourite. 

"The  Princess  Charlotte  seemed  much  hurt  at  the  little  notice 
that  was  taken  of  her  birtliday.  After  keeping  me  for  two  hours 
and  a  half  she  dismissed  me ;  and  I  am  sure  I  could  not  say  what 
she  said,  except  that  it  was  an  olio  of  decousus  and  heterogeneous 
things,  partaking  of  the  characteristics  of  her  mother  grafted  on  a 
younger  scion.  I  dined  tete-a-tete  with  my  dear  old  aunt :  hers  is 
always  a  sweet  and  soothing  society  to  me." 

There's  a  i)leasing,  laily-like,  moral  extract  for  you!  An 
innocent  young  thing  of  fifteen  has  picturs  of  tivo  lovers  in  her 
room,  and  expex  a  good  number  more.  This  dellygate  young 
creature  echjes  in  a  good  «leal  of  tumdedy  (I  can't  find  it  in 
Johnson's  Dixonary),  and  would  have  gone  on  tvith  the  thing  (elly- 
gence  of  langiaidge),  if  the  dairy-lady  would  have  let  her. 

Now,  to  tell  you  the  truth,  Mr.  Yc^rke,  I  doan't  beleave  a  single 
syllil^le  of  this  story.  This  lady  of  honner  says,  in  the  fust  place, 
tiiat  the  Princess  woidd  have  talked  a  good  deal  of  tumdedy :  Avhich 
means,  I  suppose,  indeasnsy,  if  slie,  the  lady  of  honner,  wonld  have  let 
her.  This  is  a  good  one  !  Wliy,  she  lets  everybody  else  talk  tumdedy 
to  their  hearts'  content ;  she  lets  her  friends  ivrife  tumdedy,  and, 
after  keeping  it  for  a  quarter  of  a  sentry,  she  prints  it.  Why  then 
be  so  S(]ueamish  about  hearing  a  little  !  And,  tlien,  there's  the 
stoary  of  tlie  two  portricks.  This  woman  has  the  honner  to  be 
received  in  the  frendlyest  manner  by  a  British  princess ;  and  what 
does  the  grateful  loyal  creature  dol  2  picturs  of  the  Princess's 
relations  are  hanging  in  her  room,  and  the  Dairy-M'oman  swears 
away  the  poor  young  Princess's  camckter,  by  swearing  they  are 
I)icturs  of  her  lovers.  For  shame,  oh,  for  shame !  you  slanderin 
backbitin  dairy-woman  you  !  If  you  told  all  them  things  to  your 
"  dear  old  aunt,"  on  going  to  dine  with  her,  you  must  have  had 
very  "  sweet  and  soothing  society  "  indeed. 

I  liad  marked  out  many  more  extrax,  which  I  intended  to  write 


358     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.   J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

about ;  luit  I  think  I  have  said  enough  alwut  this  Dairy  :  in  fack, 
the  butler,  and  the  gals  in  the  servants'-hall  are  not  well  pleased 
that  I  should  go  on  reading  this  naughty  book ;  so  we'll  have  no 
more  of  it,  only  one  passidge  about  Pollji^ics,  -witch  is  sertnly 
quite  new  : — 

"No  one  was  so  likely  to  be  able  to  defeat  Bonaparte  as  the 
Crown  Prince,  from  the  intimate  knowledge  lie  jjossessed  of  his 
character.  Bernadotte  was  also  instigated  against  Bonaparte  by 
one  who  not  only  owed  him  a  personal  hatred,  but  who  possessed  a 
mind  equal  to  his,  and  who  gave  the  Cro"\^Ti  Prince  both  information 
and  advice  how  to  act.  This  was  no  less  a  j>ers(jn  than  Madame  de 
Stael.  It  was  not,  as  some  have  asserted,  that  she  was  in  love 
with  Bernadotte ;  for,  at  the  time  of  their  intimacy,  Jfadaine  de 
Stael  was  in  love  with  Rocca.  But  she  used  her  influence  (which 
was  not  small)  with  the  Crown  Prince,  to  make  him  fight  against 
Bonaparte,  and  to  her  wisdom  may  be  attributed  much  of  the  success 
whicli  aceom])anied  his  attack  upon  him.  Bernadotte  luis  raised 
the  flame  of  liberty,  which  seems  fortunately  to  blaze  all  around. 
May  it  liberate  Europe ;  and  from  the  ashes  of  the  laurel  may  olive 
branches  spring  up,  and  overshadow  the  earth  !  " 

There's  a  discuvery  !  that  the  overthrow  of  Boneyjiart  is  owing 
to  Madame  de  Stael !  What  nonsince  for  Colonel  Southcy  or 
Doctor  Xajtier  to  write  histories  of  the  war  with  that  Capsicau 
hupstart  and  murderer,  when  lnTe  we  have  the  whole  attair  explaned 
by  the  lady  of  honour ! 

"Sunday,  April  10,  1814. — The  incidents  which  take  place 
every  hour  are  miracuhnis.  Bonaparte  is  deposed,  but  alive  ;  sub- 
dued, but  allowed  to  choose  his  j>lace  of  residence.  The  island  of 
Elba  is  the  sjxit  he  has  selected  for  his  ignominious  retreat.  France 
is  holding  forth  repentant  arms  to  her  banished  sovereign.  The 
Poissardes  who  dragged  Louis  XVI.  to  the  scafi'old  are  presenting 
flowers  to  the  Emjieror  of  Russia,  the  restorer  of  their  legitimate  king  ! 
What  a  stupendous  field  for  philosophy  to  expatiate  in  !  What  an 
endless  material  for  thought !  What  humiliation  to  the  pride  of 
mere  human  greatness !  How  are  the  mighty  fallen  !  Of  all  that 
was  great  in  Napoleon,  what  remains  ?  Despoiled  of  his  usun)ed 
power,  he  sinks  to  insignificance.  There  was  no  moral  gre^itness  in 
the  man.  The  meteor  dazzled,  scorched,  is  put  out — utterly,  and 
for  ever.  But  the  power  which  rests  in  those  who  have  delivered 
the  nations  from  bondage,  is  a  jiower  that  is  delegated  to  them  from 
Heaven ;  and  the  manner  in  which  tliey  have  used  it  is  a  guai'uutee 


THE    DAIRY    OF    GEORGE    IV.  359 

for  its  contiuiuince.  The  Duke  of  Wellington  has  giiined  lam-els  un- 
stained by  any  useless  flow  of  blood.  He  has  done  more  than  conquer 
others — he  has  conquered  himself :  and  in  the  midst  of  the  l)laze  and 
flush  of  victory,  surrounded  by  the  homage  of  nations,  he  has  not 
been  betrayed  into  the  commission  of  any  act  of  cruelty  or  "wanton 
offence.  He  was  as  cool  and  self-possessed  under  the  blaze  antl  dazzle 
of  fiime  as  a  common  man  would  be  under  the  shade  of  his  garden- 
tree,  or  by  the  hearth  of  his  home.  But  the  tyrant  Avho  kept  Eur<ipe 
in  awe  is  now  a  pitiable  object  for  scorn  to  point  the  finger  of  derision 
at :  and  humanity  shudders  as  it  remembers  the  scourge  with  which 
this  man's  ambition  was  permitted  to  devastate  every  home  tie,  and 
every  heartfelt  joy." 

And  now,  after  this  sublime  passidge,  as  fun  01  aAvtte  reflections 
and  pious  sentjTnents  as  those  of  Mrs.  Cole  in  the  play,  I  shall  only 
quot  one  little  extrak  more  : — 

"  All  goes  gloomily  with  the  poor  Princess.  Lady  Charlotte 
Campl)ell  told  me  she  regrets  not  seeing  all  these  curious  personages  ; 
but  she  says,  the  more  the  Princess  is  forsaken,  the  more  happy  she 
is  at  having  oftered  to  attend  her  at  this  time.  This  is  verij  ami- 
able in  Aer,  and  cannot  fail  to  be  gratifying  to  the  Princess." 

So  it  is — wery  amiable,  w^ery  kind  and  considerate  in  her,  indeed. 
Poor  Princess  !  how  lucky  you  was  to  find  a  frend  who  loved  you 
for  your  ovm  sake,  and  when  all  the  rest  of  the  wuld  turned  its  Ijack 
kep  steady  to  you.  As  for  believhig  that  Lady  Siiarlot  had  any 
hand  in  tliis  book,*  Heaven  forbid  !  she  is  all  gratitude,  pure  grati- 
tude, depend  upon  it.  She  would  not  go  for  to  blacken  her  old  frend 
and  patron's  carrickter,  after  having  been  so  outrageously  faithful  to 
her  ;  she  wouldn't  do  it,  at  no  price,  depend  upon  it.  How  sorry 
she  must  be  that  others  an't  quite  so  squemish,  and  show  up  in  this 
indesent  way  the  follies  of  her  kind,  genrus,  foolish  bennyfactris  ! 

*  The  "authorised"  announcement,  in  the  John  Bull  newspaper,  sets  this 
question  at  rest.  It  is  declared  that  her  Ladyship  is  not  the  writer  of  the 
Diary.— 0.  Y. 


EPISTLES    TO    THE  LITERATI 

Ch-s  Y-ll-wpl-sh,  Esq.,  to  Sir  Edwaed  Lytton  Bulwer,  Bt. 
Jonx  Thomas  Smith,  Esq.,  to  C — s  Y h,  Esq. 

NOTUS 

THE  suckmstansies  of  the  following  harticle  are  as  folios  : — Me 
and  my  friend,  the  sellabrated  "Mr.  Smith,  reckonised  each 
other  in  the  Hayniarket  Theatre,  diirint:  the  performints  of 
the  new  jtlay.  I  was  settn  in  the  gallery,  and  sung  out  to  him 
(he  was  in  the  pit),  to  jine  us  after  the  play,  over  a  glass  of  bear 
and  a  cold  hoyster,  in  my  pantry,  the  family  being  out. 

Smith  came  as  apjtinted.  We  descorsed  on  tiie  subjick  of  the 
comady  ;  and,  after  sefral  glases,  we  each  of  us  agreed  to  write  a 
letter  to  the  other,  giving  our  notiums  of  the  pease.  Paper  w;is 
brouLrht  that  niomint  :  and  Smith  writing  his  harticle  across  the 
knife-bord,  I  d;i.sht  off  mine  on  tiie  dresser. 

Our  agreement  was,  that  I  (being  remarkabble  for  my  style  of 
riting)  should  cretasize  the  languidge,  whilst  he  should  take  up 
with  the  plot  of  the  play ;  and  the  candied  reader  will  parding 
me  for  having  lujltered  the  original  address  of  my  letter,  and 
directed  it  to  Sir  Edward  himself;  and  for  having  incopperated 
Smith's  remarks  iu  the  midst  of  my  own  : — • 

Mayfair:  Nov.  30,  1839.     Midnite. 

HoxRABBLE  Barxet  ! — Retired  from  the  littery  world  a  year 
or  moar,  I  didn't  tliink  anythink  would  injuice  me  to  come  forrards 
again  ;  for  I  was  content  with  my  share  of  reputation,  and  ])ropoas'd 
to  add  nothink  to  those  immortial  wux  which  have  rendered  this 
IMagaseen  so  sallybrated. 

Shall  I  tell  you  the  reazn  of  my  re-appearants  ? — a  desire  for 
the  benefick  of  my  fellow-creatures]  Fiddlestick!  A  mighty 
truth  Anth  which  my  busm  laboured,  and  which  I  must  bring  fortli 
or  die?     Nonsince — stuff:  money's  the  secret,  my  dear  Barnet, — • 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI  361 

money — Vargong,  gelt,  sjncunia.  Here's  quarter-day  comin.s;,  and 
I'm  blest  if  I  can  pay  my  landlud,  unless  I  can  ad  hartificially  to 
my  inkum. 

This  is,  however,  betwigst  you  and  me.  There's  no  need  to 
blacard  the  streets  \yith  it,  or  to  tell  the  British  i>ul)lic  that  Fitzroy 
Y-11-wpl-sh  is  short  of  money,  or  that  the  sally brated  liauthor  of 

the  Y Papers  is  in  peskewiiary  diffieklties,  or  is  fiteagued  by 

his  superhuman  littery  labors,  or  by  his  fandy  suckmstansies,  or  by  any 
other  pusnal  matter  :  my  maxim,  dear  B,  is  on  these  pints  to  be  as 
quiet  as  posbile.  AVhat  the  juice  does  the  public  care  for  you  or  me  ? 
Why  must  we  always,  in  prefizzes  and  what  not,  be  a-talking  about 
ourselves  and  our  igstrodnary  merrats,  woas,  and  injaries  1  It  is  on 
this  subjick  that  I  porpies,  my  dear  Barnet,  to  speak  to  you  in  a 
frendly  way ;  and  prai)s  you'll  find  my  advise  tolrabbly  holesum. 

Well,  then, — if  you  care  about  the  apinions,  fur  good  or  evil, 
of  us  poor  suvvants,  I  tell  you,  in  the  most  candied  way,  I  like 
you,  Barnet.  I've  had  my  fling  at  you  in  my  day  (for,  entn/  nou, 
that  last  stoary  I  roat  about  you  and  Larnder  was  as  big  a  bownsir 
as  ever  was) — I've  had  my  fling  at  you ;  biit  I  like  you.  One  may 
objeck  to  an  immence  deal  of  your  A^Titings,  Avhich,  betwigst  you 
and  me,  contain  more  sham  scentiment,  sham  morallaty,  sham 
poatry,  than  you'd  like  to  own  ;  but,  in  spite  of  this,  there's  the 
stuffiw  you  :  you've  a  kind  and  loyal  heart  in  you,  Barnet — a  trifle 
deboshed,  perhaps ;  a  kean  i,  igspecially  for  what's  comic  (as  for 
yoiu-  tradgady,  it's  mighty  flatchulont),  and  a  ready  plesnt  pen. 
The  man  who  says  you  are  an  As  is  an  As  himself.  Don't  believe 
him,  Barnet !  not  that  I  supi)Ose  you  wil, — for,  if  I've  fornie<l  a 
correck  apinion  of  you  from  yovu'  wucks,  you  think  your  small- 
beear  as  good  as  most  men's :  every  man  does, — and  why  not  % 
We  brew,  and  we  love  our  own  tap — amen  ;  but  the  pint  betwigst 
us,  is  this  stewpid,  absudd  way  of  crying  out,  because  the  pul)lic 
don't  like  it  too.  AVliy  shood  they,  my  dear  Barnet  ?  You  may 
vow  that  they  are  fools ;  or  tliat  the  critix  are  your  enemies ;  or 
that  the  wuld  should  judge  your  poams  by  your  critticle  rules,  and 
not  their  own :  you  may  beat  your  breast,  and  vow  you  are  a 
marter,  and  you  won't  mend  the  matter.  Take  heart,  man !  you're 
not  so  misrabble  after  all :  your  spirits  need  not  be  so  very  cast 
down ;  you  are  not  so  very  badly  i^aid.  I'd  lay  a  wager  that  you 
riiake,  with  one  thing  or  another — plays,  novvles,  pamphlicks,  and 
little  odd  jobbs  here  and  there — your  three  thowsnd  a  year.  There's 
many  a  man,  dear  Bullwig,  that  works  for  less,  and  lives  content. 
Why  shouldn't  you  1  Three  thowsnd  a  year  is  no  such  bad  thing, 
— let  alone  the  barnetcy :  it  must  be  a  great  comfort  to  have  that 
bloody  hand  in  your  skitching. 


362     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.   J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

But  don't  you  sea,  that  in  a  wuld  naturally  envius,  wickid,  and 
fond  of  a  joak,  this  very  barnetcy,  these  very  cumplaints, — this 
ceaseless  groning,  and  moning,  and  ^vining  of  yours,  is  igsackly  the 
thing  which  makes  people  laff  and  snear  more  1  If  you  were  ever 
at  a  great  school,  you  must  recklcct  who  was  the  boy  most  bullid, 
and  buffitid,  and  purshewd — he  who  minded  it  most.  He  who 
could  take  a  basting  got  but  few ;  he  who  rord  and  wep  because 
tlie  knotty  boys  called  him  nicknames,  was  nicknamed  wuss  and 
wuss.  I  recklect  there  was  at  our  school,  in  Smithfield,  a  chap  of 
this  milksop  spoony  sort,  who  appeared  among  the  romping,  ragged 
fellers  in  a  fine  flanning  dressing-go wnd,  that  his  mama  had  given 
him.  That  pore  boy  was  beaten  in  a  way  that  liis  dear  ma  and 
aunts  didn't  know  him ;  his  fine  flanning  dressing-gownd  was  tiini 
all  to  ribl)ings,  and  he  got  no  pease  in  the  school  ever  after,  but 
Avas  abliged  to  be  taken  to  some  other  saminary,  where,  I  make  no 
doubt,  he  was  paid  off  igsactly  in  the  same  way. 

•  Do  you  take  the  halligory,  my  dear  Barnet  1  Jhitaijto  yiominij 
— you  know  what  I  mean.  You  are  the  boy,  and  your  barnetcy 
is  the  dressing-gownd.  You  dress  yourself  out  finer  than  other 
chaps  and  they  all  begin  to  sault  and  hustle  you  ;  it's  human  nature, 
Barnet.  You  show  weakness,  think  of  your  dear  ma,  mayhap,  and 
begin  to  cry  :  it's  all  over  with  you ;  the  whole  school  is  at  you — 
upper  boys  and  under,  big  and  little ;  the  dirtiest  little  fag  in  the 
place  will  pipe  out  blaggerd  names  at  you,  and  take  his  pewny  tug 
at  your  tail. 

The  only  way  to  avoid  such  consperracies  is  to  put  a  pair  of 
stowt  shoalders  forrards,  and  bust  through  the  crowd  of  raggy- 
nuiftins.  A  good  bold  fellow  dubls  his  fistt,  and  cries,  "  Wha  dares 
meddle  wi'  mer'  When  Scott  got  his  barnetcy,  for  instans,  did 
any  one  of  us  cry  out  1  No,  by  the  laws,  he  was  our  master ;  and 
wo  betide  the  chap  that  say  neigh  to  him  !  But  there's  barnets  and 
barnets.  Do  you  recklect  that  fine  chapter  in  "  Squintin  Durward," 
aboiit  the  too  fellos  and  cups,  at  the  siege  of  the  bishop's  castle  1 
One  of  them  was  a  brave  warrier,  and  kep  his  cup ;  they  strangled 
the  other  chap — strangled  him,  and  lafied  at  him  too. 

With  respeck,  then,  to  the  barnetcy  pint,  this  is  my  advice  : 
brazen  it  out.  Us  littery  men  I  take  to  be  like  a  pack  of  school- 
boys— childish,  greedy,  envius,  holding  by  our  friends,  and  always 
ready  to  fight.  What  must  be  a  man's  conduck  among  such  ?  He 
must  either  take  no  notis,  and  pass  on  myjastick,  or  else  turn  round 
and  pummle  soundly — one,  two,  right  and  left,  ding  dong  over  the 
face  and  eyes  ;  above  all,  never  acknowledge  that  he  is  hurt.  Years 
ago,  for  instans  (we've  no  ill-blood,  but  only  mention  this  by  way 
of  igsample),  you  began  a  sparring  witli  this  Magaseen.     Law  bless 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI  363 

you,  such  a  ridicklus  gaym  I  never  see :  a  man  so  belaybord,  be- 
fiustereil,  bewolloped,  Mas  never  known  ;  it  was  the  laflf  of  tlie  whole 
town.  Your  inteluekshal  natur,  respected  Barnet,  is  not  fizzickly 
adapted,  so  to  speak,  for  encounters  of  this  sort.  You  must  not 
indulge  in  combats  with  us  course  bullies  of  the  press :  you  have 
not  tlie  staminy  for  a  reglar  set-to.  What,  then,  is  your  plan  ?  In 
the  midst  of  the  mob  to  pass  as  quiet  as  you  can :  you  won't  be 
undistubbed.  Who  is  ?  Some  stray  kix  and  l)uffit8  will  I'all  to 
you — mortial  man  is  subjick  to  such ;  but  if  you  begin  t(j  wins  and 
cry  out,  and  set  up  for  a  marter,  wo  betide  you  ! 

These  remarks,  pusnal  as  I  confess  them  to  be,  are  yet,  I  assure 
you,  written  in  i)eriick  good-natur,  and  have  been  inspired  by  your 
play  of  the  "  Sea  Capting,"  and  prefiz  to  it ;  which  latter  is  on 
matters  intirely  pusnal,  and  will,  therefore,  I  trust,  igscuse  this  kind 
of  ad  kominam  (as  they  say)  diskcushion.  I  propose,  lionrabble 
Barnit,  to  cumsider  calmly  this  play  and  prephiz,  and  to  speak  of 
both  with  that  honisty  Avhicli,  in  the  pantry  or  studdy,  I've  been 
always  phamous  for.  Let  us,  in  the  first  place,  listen  to  the  opening 
of  the  '■'  Preface  to  the  Fourtli  Edition  :  " — 

"  No  one  can  be  more  sensible  than  I  am  of  the  many  faults 
and  deficiencies  to  be  found  in  this  play  ;  but,  perhaps,  when  it  is 
considered  how  very  rarely  it  has  hai)])ened  in  the  history  of  our 
dramatic  literature  that  good  acting  plays  have  been  produced,  except 
by  those  who  have  either  been  actors  themselves,  or  formed  their 
habits  of  literature,  almost  of  life,  behind  the  scenes,  I  might  have 
looked  for  a  criticism  more  generous,  and  less  exacting  and  rigorous, 
than  that  by  which  the  attempts  of  an  author  accustomed  to  another 
class  of  composition  have  been  received  Ijy  a  large  proportion  of  the 
periodical  press. 

"  It  is  scarcely  jDossiblc,  indeed,  that  this  jilay  should  not  con- 
tain faults  of  two  kinds  :  first,  the  faults  of  one  who  has  necessarily 
much  to  learn  in  the  mechanism  of  his  art ;  and,  secondly,  of  one 
who,  having  written  largely  in  the  narrative  style  of  fiction,  may 
not  unfrequently  mistake  the  efiects  of  a  novel  for  the  eftccts  of  a 
drama.  I  may  add  to  these,  perhaps,  the  deficiencies  that  arise 
from  uncertain  health  and  broken  spirits,  which  render  tlie  author 
more  susceptible  than  he  might  have  been  some  years  since  to  that 
spirit  of  depreciation  and  hostility  which  it  has  been  his  misfortune 
to  excite  amongst  the  general  contributors  to  the  periodical  press ; 
for  the  consciousness  that  every  endeavour  will  be  made  to  ca'S'il,  to 
distort,  to  misrepresent,  and,  in  fine,  if  i)ossibIe,  to  mn  down,  will 
occasionally  haunt  even  the  hours  of  composition,  to  check  the  inspira- 
tion, and  damp  the  ardour. 


364     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.   J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

"  Having  confessed  thus  much  frankly  and  fairly,  and  with  a 
hope  that  I  may  ultimately  do  better,  should  I  continue  to  write 
for  the  stage  (which  nothing  but  an  assurance  that,  with  all  my 
defects,  I  may  yet  bring  some  little  aid  to  the  drama,  at  a  time 
when  any  aid,  however  humble,  ought  to  be  Avelcome  to  the  lovers, 
of  the  art,  could  induce  me  to  do),  may  I  be  permitted  to  say  a  few 
words  as  to  some  of  the  objections  wliich  have  been  made  against 
this  play  1 " 

Now,  my  dear  sir,  look  what  a  pretty  number  of  please  you 
put  fon-ards  here,  Avhy  your  play  shouldn't  be  good. 

First.  Good  plays  are  ahnost  always  Avritten  by  actors. 

Secknd.  You  are  a  novice  to  the  style  of  composition. 

Third.  You  mai/  be  mistaken  in  your  effects,  being  a  novelist 
by  trade,  and  not  a  play-^niter. 

Fourthly.  Yoiu"  in  such  bad  helth  and  sperrits. 

Fifthly.  Your  so  afraid  of  the  critix,  that  they  damp  your  arder. 

For  shame,  for  shame,  man  !  What  confeshiLS  is  these, — what 
painful  pewling  and  piping !  Your  not  a  babby.  I  take  you  to 
be  some  seven  or  eight  and  thutty  years  old — "  in  the  morning  of 
youth,"  as  the  flosofer  says.  Don't  let  any  such  nonsince  take  your 
reazn  prisoner.  Wliat  you,  an  old  hand  amongst  us, — an  old  soljer 
of  our  sovring  quean  the  press, — you,  who  have  had  the  best  pay, 
have  held  the  topmost  rank  (ay,  and  desei'ved  them  too  ! — I  gif  you 
lef  to  quot  me  in  saslaty,  and  say,  "  I  am  a  man  of  genius :  Y— 11- 
wpl-sh  says  so"), — you  to  lose  heart,  and  cry  pickavy,  and  begin 
to  howl,  because  little  boys  fling  stones  at  you !  Fie,  man  !  take 
courage ;  and,  bearing  the  terrows  of  your  blood-red  hand,  as  the 
poet  says,  punish  us,  if  we've  ofended  you  :  jiunish  us  like  a  man, 
or  bear  your  own  iiunishment  like  a  man.  Don't  try  to  come  off 
with  such  misrabble  lodgic  as  that  above. 

What  do  you  1  You  give  four  satisfackary  reazns  that  the  play 
is  bad  (tlie  secknd  is  naught, — for  your  no  such  chicking  at  play- 
writing,  this  being  the  forth).  You  show  that  the  play  must  be 
bad,  and  then  begin  to  deal  with  the  critix  for  finding  folt ! 

Was  there  ever  wuss  generalship  1  The  play  is  bad, — your 
right, — a  wuss  I  never  see  or  read.  But  why  kneed  you  say  so  % 
If  it  was  so  verif  bad,  why  publish  it  \  Because  you  wish  to  serve 
the  drama  !  O  fie  !  don't  lay  that  flatteiing  function  to  your  sole 
as  Milton  observes.  Do  you  behave  that  this  "Sea  Capting"  can 
sei've  the  drama]  Did  you  never  intend  that  it  should  serve  any- 
thing, or  anykxly  the  ?  Of  cors  you  did  !  You  wrote  it  for  money, 
— money  from  the  maniger,  money  from  the  bookseller, — for  the  same 
rea.son  that  I  write  this.     Sir,  Shakspeare  -WTote  for  the  very  same 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI  365 

reasons,  niid  I  never  heard  tliat  lie  bragged  al)oiit  serving  the  drama. 
Away  witi)  this  canting  about  great  motifs !  Let  us  not  be  two 
prowd,  my  dear  Baniet,  and  fansy  ourselves  marters  of  the  truth, 
marters  or  apostels.  AVe  are  but  tradesmen,  ■working  for  bread, 
and  not  for  righteousness'  sake.  Let's  try  and  work  honestly  ; 
but  don't  lot  us  be  prayting  pompisly  about  our  "  sacred  calling." 
The  taylor  Avho  makes  your  coats  (and  very  well  they  are  made 
too,  with  the  best  of  velvit  collars) — I  say  Stulze,  or  Nugee, 
might  cry  out  that  tJieir  motifs  Avere  but  to  assert  the  etiuTile 
truth  of  tayloring,  with  just  as  nuich  rc:tzn ;  and  who  would  be- 
lieve them  1 

Well ;  after  this  acknollitchmeut  that  th(^  ])lay  is  Imd,  come 
sefral  jjages  of  attack  on  tlie  critLx,  and  the  folt  those  gentry  have 
found  with  it.  With  these  I  shan't  middle  for  the  presnt.  You 
defend  all  the  characters  1  by  1,  and  conclude  your  remarks  as 
follows : — ■ 

"  I  must  be  pardoned  for  this  disquisition  on  my  own  designs. 
When  every  means  is  employed  to  misrepresent,  it  becomes,  i)cr- 
haps,  allowable  to  explain.  And  if  I  do  not  think  that  iny  faults 
as  a  dra.matic  author  are  to  be  found  in  the  study  and  delineation 
of  clnu-acter,  it  is  i)recisely  because  that  is  the  point  on  which  all 
my  previous  pursuits  in  literature  and  actual  life  would  be  most 
likely  to  preserve  me  fr(nn  the  errors  I  own  elsewliere,  whether  of 
misjudgment  or  inexperience. 

"I  have  now  only  to  add  my  thanks  to  the  actors  for  the  zeal 
and  talent  with  which  they  have  emlx)died  the  characters  entrusted 
to  them.  Tlie  sweetness  and  grace  with  which  Miss  Faucit  em- 
bellished the  part  of  Violet — which,  though  only  a  sketch,  is  most 
necessiiry  to  the  coloiuing  and  harmony  of  the  play — were  perhaps 
the  more  pleasing  to  the  audience  from  the  generosity,  rare  with 
actors,  which  induced  her  to  take  a  part  so  for  inferior  to  her 
powers.  The  applause  which  attends  the  ])erformancc  of  Mrs. 
Warner  and  Mr.  Strickland  attests  their  success  in  characters  of 
unusual  difficulty  ;  while  the  singular  beauty  anil  nobleness,  whether 
of  conception  or  execution,  with  which  the  greatest  of  living  actoi-s 
has  elevated  the  part  of  Norman  (so  totally  different  from  his 
ordinary  range  of  character),  is  a  ncnv  proof  of  his  versatility 
and  accomplishment  in  all  that  belongs  to  his  art.  It  would  be 
scarcely  gracioiis  to  conclude  these  remarks  without  exjjressing  my 
acknowledgment  of  that  generous  and  indulgent  sense  of  justice 
which,  forgetting  all  political  differences  in  a  literary  arena,  has 
enabled  me  to  api)eal  to  approving  audiences — from  hostile  critics. 
And  it  is  this  which  alone  encourages  me  to  hope  that,  sooner  or 


366     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.   J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

later,  I  may  add  to  the  dramatic  literature  of  my  country  something 
that  may  find,  perhaps,  almost  as  many  friends  in  the  next  age  as 
it  has  been  the  fate  of  the  author  to  find  enemies  in  this." 

See,  now,  what  a  good  comfrabble  ^■anaty  is  !  Pepple  have 
quarld  with  the  dramatic  characters  of  3'our  play.  "  No,"  says 
you ;  "  if  I  am  remarkabble  for  anythink,  it's  for  my  study  and 
delineation  of  character ;  that  is  presizely  the  pint  to  which  my 
littery  purshuits  have  led  me."  Have  you  read  "  Jil  Blaw,"  my 
dear  sir?  Have  you  jnrouzed  that  exlent  tragady,  the  "Critic"? 
There's  something  so  like  this  in  Sir  Fretful  Plaguy,  and  tlie 
Archbishop  of  Granadiers,  that  I'm  blest  if  I  can't  latf  till  my  sides 
ake.  Think  of  the  critix  fixing  on  the  very  pint  for  which  you  are 
famus  ! — the  roags  I  And  spose  they  had  said  the  plot  was  absudd, 
or  the  langwitch  absudder  still,  don't  you  think  you  would  have  had 
a  word  in  defens  of  them  too — you  who  hope  to  find  trends  for 
your  dramatic  wux  in  tlie  nex  age  ?  Poo  !  I  tell  thee,  Barnet,  that 
the  nex  aire  will  be  wiser  and  better  than  this ;  and  do  you  think 
that  it  will  imi)ly  itself  'A  reading  of  your  trajadies  ?  This  is  misan- 
trofy,  Barne't — reglar  Byrouism  ;  and  you  ot  to  have  a  better  apiniau 
of  human  natur. 

Your  apinion  about  the  actors  I  shan't  here  meddle  with.  They 
all  acted  exlcntly  as  far  as  my  humbile  judgement  goes,  and  your 
wTite  in  giving  them  ail  possible  prays.  But  let's  consider  the  last 
sentence  of  the  prefiz,  my  dear  Bamet,  and  see  what  a  pretty  set  of 
apiniuns  you  lay  down. 

1.  The  critix  are  your  inymies  in  this  age. 

2.  In  the  nex,  however,  you  hope  to  finil  newmrous  frends. 

3.  And  it's  a  satisfockshn  to  tliink  that,  in  spite  of  politticle 
difirances,  you  have  found  frendly  aujonces  here. 

Now,  my  dear  Barnet,  for  a  man  who  begins  so  humbly  with 
what  my  friend  Father  Prout  calls  an  argamantum  ad  misericorjam 
who  ignowledges  that  his  i)lay  is  bad,  that  his  pore  dear  helth  is 
bad,  and  those  cussid  critix  have  played  the  juice  with  him — I  say, 
for  a  man  who  beginns  in  such  a  humbill  toan,  it's  rayther  rich  to 
see  liow  you  end. 

My  dear  Barnet,  do  you  suppose  that  politticle  dif ranees 
prejudice  pepple  against  you  ?  What  are  your  politix  ?  Wig,  I 
presume — so  are  mine,  entry  noo.  And  what  if  they  are  Wig,  or 
Raddiccle,  or  Cumsu^•v^ative  ?  Does  any  mf)rtial  man  in  England 
care  a  phig  for  yoiu-  politix  ?  Do  you  think  yourself  such  a  mity 
man  in  parlymint,  that  critix  arc  to  l)e  angry  with  you,  and 
aujences  to  be  cumsidered  magnanamous  because  they  treat  you 
fairly?     There,  now,  was  Sherridn,  he  who  roat  the  "Rifles"  and 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI  367 

"  School  for  Scandle "  (I  saw  the  "  Ritlcs "  after  your  play,  and, 
0  Barnet,  if  you  knew  wliat  a  relief  it  Avas  !) — there,  I  say,  was 
Sherridn — he  ^vas  a  politticle  character,  if  you  please — he  could 
make  a  spitch  or  two — do  you  spose  that  Pitt,  Purseyvall,  Castlerag, 
old  George  the  Third  himself,  Avooden  go  to  see  the  "  Rivlcs  " — 
ay,  and  clap  hinds  too,  and  laff  and  ror,  for  all  Sherry's  Wiggery^ 
Do  you  spose  the  critix  wouldn't  applaud  too  ?  For  shame,  Barnet ! 
what  ninnis,  what  hartless  raskles,  you  uuist  beleave  them  to  he, — 
in  the  fust  plase,  to  fiuicy  that  you  arc  a  politticle  genus ;  in  the 
secknd,  to  let  your  politix  intcrfear  with  their  notiums  about  littery 
merits ! 

"  Put  that  nonsiuce  out  of  your  head,"  as  Fox  said  to  Bonypart. 
Wasn't  it  that  great  genus,  Dennis,  that  Avrote  in  Switf  and  Poop's 
time,  who  fansid  that  tlie  French  king  Avooden  make  pease  unless 
Dennis  was  deliA'ered  \\\)  to  him  ?  Upon  my  Avud,  I  doan't  think 
he  carrid  his  diddlusion  mueli  further  than  a  serting  honrabble 
barnet  of  my  aquentance. 

And  then  for  the  nex  age.  Respected  sir,  this  is  another 
diddlusion;    a  gross   misteak  on   your   part,   or  my  name   is   not 

Y sh.       These    plays   immortiaH      Ah,   jvirri/savij/e,    as    the 

French  say,  this  is  too  strong— the  small-beer  of  the  "  Sea  Cap- 
ting,"  or  of  any  suxessor  of  the  "Sea  Cap  ting,"  to  keep  sAveet 
for  sentries  and  sentries  !  Barnet,  Barnet !  do  you  knoAV  the  natur 
of  bear?  Six  Aveeks  is  not  past,  and  here  your  last  casque  is 
sour — the  iniblic  won't  even  uoaa'  drink  it ;  and  I  lay  a  Avager  tliat, 
betwigst  this  day  (the  thuttieth  November)  and  tlie  end  of  the 
year,  the  barl  will  be  off  the  st(«  altogether,  never  never  to 
return. 

I've  netted  doAvn  a  fcAV  frazes  here  and  there,  Avhich  you  will 

do  Avell  to  igsamin  : — 

NORMAN. 

"The  eternal  Flora 
Woos  to  her  odorous  haunts  the  western  wind  ; 
While  circling  round  and  upwards  from  the  bough?, 
Golden  with  fruits  that  lure  the  joyous  birds, 
Melody,  like  a  happy  soul  released, 
Hangs  in  the  air,  and  from  invisible  plumes 
Shakes  sweetness  down  !  " 

NORMAN. 

"And  these  the  lips 
Where,  till  this  hour,  the  sad  and  holy  kiss 
Of  parting  linger'd,  as  the  fragrance  left 
By  ai?i/c?s  when  they  touch  the  earth  and  vanish.^' 


368     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.   J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

NOEMAN. 

"  Hark  !  she  has  blessed  her  son  !     I  bid  ye  witness, 
Ye  listening  heavens — thou  circumambient  air  : 
The  ocean  sighs  it  back — and  with  the  murmur 
Rustle  the  happy  leaves.     All  nature  breathes 
Aloud— aloft— to  the  Great  Parent's  ear, 
The  blessing  of  the  mother  on  her  child." 

KORMAN. 

"  I  dream  of  love,  enduring  faith,  a  heart 
Mingled  with  mine— a  deathless  heritage, 
Which  I  can  take  unsullied  to  the  stars, 
When  the  Great  Father  calls  his  children  home," 

NORMAN. 

"  The  blue  air,  breathless  in  the  starry  peace, 
After  long  silence  hushed  as  heaven,  but  filled 
With  happy  thoughts  as  heaven  with  angels." 

NORMAN. 

*'  Till  one  calm  night,  when  over  earth  and  wave 
Heaven  looked  its  love  from  all  its  numberless  stars, 

NORMAN. 

"  Those  eyes,  the  guiding  stars  by  which  I  steered." 

NORMAN. 

"  That  great  mother 
(The  only  parent  I  have  known),  whose  face 
Is  bright  with  gazing  ever  on  the  stars — 
The  mother-sea." 

NORMAN. 
' '  My  bark  shall  be  our  home  ; 
The  stars  that  light  the  angel  palaces 
Of  air,  our  lamps." 

NORMAN. 

"  A  name  that  glitters,  like  a  star,  amidst 
The  galaxy  of  England's  loftiest  born. " 

LADY   ARUNDEL. 

"  And  see  him  prineeliest  of  the  lion  tribe, 
Whose  swords  and  coronals  gleam  around  the  throne. 
The  guardian  stars  of  the  imperial  isle." 


» 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI  369 

The  fust  spissymen  has  been  goiiiij:  tlie  round  of  all  the  papers, 
as  real  reglar  poatry.  Those  wicked  critix  1  they  unist  have  l)oeii 
lafRng  in  their  sleafs  Avhen  they  quoted  it.  Malody,  suckling 
round  and  uppards  from  the  bows,  like  a  hai)i)y  •'^"nl  released, 
hangs  in  the  air,  and  from  invizable  plumes  shakes  sweetness 
down.  Mighty  fine,  truly  !  but  let  mortial  man  tell  the  meanink  of 
the  passidge.  Is  it  miisichle  sweetniss  that  Malody  shakes  down 
from  its  plumes — its  wings,  that  is,  or  tail — or  some  pekewliar 
scent  that  proceeds  from  hap])y  souls  released,  and  which  they 
shake  down  frcii  the  trees  when  they  ai'C  suckling  round  and 
uppards?  la  this  poatry,  Barnet?  Lay  your  hand  on  your  busm, 
and  sjieak  out  boldly  :  Is  it  poatry,  or  sheer  windy  luuubugg,  that 
sounds  a.  little  melojous,  and  won't  bear  the  connnanest  test  of 
comman  sence  ? 

In  passidge  number  2,  the  same  bisniss  is  going  on,  though 
in  a  more  comprehensable  way  :  the  air,  the  leaves,  the  otion, 
are  fild  with  emocean  at  Cajiting  Norman's  happiness.  Pore 
Nature  is  dragged  in  to  partisapate  in  his  joys,  just  as  she  has 
been  befor.  Once  in  a  poem,  this  universle  simfithy  is  very 
well ;  but  once  is  enuff,  my  dear  Barnet ;  and  that  once  should 
be  in  some  great  suckmstans,  surely, — such  as  the  meeting  of 
Adam  and  Eve,  in  "  Paradice  Lost,"  or  Jewpeter  and  Jewno,  in 
Hoamer,  where  there  seems,  as  it  were,  a  reasn  for  it.  But 
sea-captings  should  not  be  eternly  spowting  and  invoking  gods, 
hevns,  starrs,  angels,  and  other  silcstial  iuHuences.  We  can  all 
do  it,  Barnet ;  nothing  in  life  is  esier.  I  can  compare  my  livry 
buttons  to  the  stars,  or  the  clouds  of  my  Imckopipe  to  the  dark 
vellums  that  ishew  from  Mount  Hetna ;  or  I  can  say  that  angels 
are  looking  down  from  them,  and  the  tobacco  silf,  like  a  hai)py 
sole  released,  is  circling  round  and  upwards,  and  shaking  sweet- 
ness down.  All  tins  is  as  esy  as  drink  ;  but  it's  not  poatry, 
Barnet,  nor  natural.  People,  when  their  mothers  reckonise 
them,  don't  howl  about  the  suckumambient  air,  and  ])aws  to 
think  of  the  happy  leaves  a-rustling — at  least,  one  mistrusts 
them  if  they  do.  Take  another  instans  out  of  your  own  i)lay. 
'  Capting  Norman  (with  his  etcrnll  slachjaiv !)  meets  the  gal  ot 
his  art : — 

"  Look  up,  look  up,  my  Violet— weeping?  fie  ! 
And  trembling  too — yet  leaning  on  my  breast. 
In  truth,  thou  art  too  soft  for  such  rude  shelter. 
Look  up  !     I  come  to  woo  thee  to  the  seas, 
My  sailor's  bride  !     Hast  thou  no  voice  but  blushes  ? 
Nay— From  those  roses  let  me,  like  the  bee, 
Drag  forth  the  secret  sweetness  1 " 


370     .AIEMOIRS    OF    MR.    C.   J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

VIOLET. 

"  Oh  what  thoughts 
Were  kept  for  speech  when  we  once  more  should  meet, 
Now  blotted  from  ihc page;  and  all  I  feel 
Is — thou  art  with  me  ! " 

Very  right,  IVIiss  Violet — the  scentinient  is  natral,  aifeckslinit, 
X)leasing,  simple  (it  might  have  been  in  more  grammaticle  languidge, 
and  no  harm  done) ;  but  never  mind,  tlie  feeling  is  pritty  ;  and  I  can 
fancy,  my  dear  Barnet,  a  pritty,  smiling,  weeping  lass,  looking  up  in 
a  man's  face  and  saying  it.  But  the  capting  ! — oh,  this  capting  ! — 
this  windy  spouting  captain,  with  his  jn-ittinesses,  and  eonseated  apol- 
logies  for  the  liardnoss  of  his  busm,  and  his  old,  stale,  vapid  simalies, 
and  his  wisjies  to  be  a  bee  !  Pish  !  Men  don't  make  love  in  this 
tinniking  way.  It's  the  part  of  a  sentymentle,  poeticle  taylor,  not  a 
galliant  gentleman,  in  eommand  of  one  of  Her  ^ladjisty's  vessels  of  war. 

Look  at  the  remaining  extrae,  lionored  Barnet,  and  acknollidge 
that  Capting  Norman  is  eturnly  rejjeating  himself,  with  his  enilless 
jabber  about  stars  and  angels.  Look  at  the  neat  grammaticle  twist 
of  Lady  Arundel's  spitch,  too,  who,  in  the  corse  of  three  lines,  has 
made  her  son  a  i)rincc,  a  lion,  with  a  sword  and  coronal,  anil  a  star. 
Why  jumble  and  sheak  up  metafors  in  this  way?  Barnet,  one 
simily  is  quite  enuff  in  the  best  of  sentenses  (and  I  preshume  I 
kneedn't  tell  you  that  it's  as  well  to  have  it  like,  Avhen  you  are 
about  it).  Take  my  advice,  honrabble  sir — listen  to  a  liumble 
footrain :  it's  genrally  best  in  poatry  to  understand  jiurtickly  what 
you  mean  yourself,  an<l  to  igsjiress  your  meaning  clearly  afterwoods 
— in  the  simpler  words  the  better,  praps.  You  may,  for  instans, 
call  a  coronet  a  coroiial  (an  "ancestral  coronal,"  p.  74)  if  y(iu  like, 
as  you  might  call  a  hat  a  "swart  sombrero,"  "a  glossy  four-and- 
nine,"  "a  silken  helm,  to  storm  impermeable,  ami  lightsome  as  the 
breezy  gossamer ; "  but,  in  the  long  run,  it's  as  well  to  call  it  a  hat. 
It  is  a  hat ;  and  that  name  is  quite  as  poetticle  as  another.  I  think 
it's  Playto,  or  els  Hanystottle,  who  observes  that  what  we  call  a 
rose  by  any  other  name  would  smell  as  sweet.  Confess,  now,  dear 
Barnet,  don't  you  long  to  call  it  a  Polyanthus? 

I  never  see  a  play  more  carelessly  written.  In  such  a  hurry 
you  seem  to  have  bean,  that  you  have  actially  in  some  sentences 
forgot  to  put  in  the  sence.     AVhat  is  this,  for  instance? — 

"  This  thrice  precious  one 
Smiled  to  my  eyes — drew  being  from  my  breast- 
Slept  in  my  arms  ; — the  very  tears  I  shed 
Above  my  treasures  ware  to  men  and  angels 
Alike  such  holy  sweetness  ! " 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI  371 

In  the  name  of  all  the  angels  that  ever  you  invoked — Raphael, 
Gabriel,  Uriel,  Zadkiel,  Azrael — v/hat  does  this  "holy  sweetness" 
mean  ?  We're  not  spiuxes  to  read  such  dark  conandrums.  If  you 
knew  my  state  sins  I  came  upon  this  passidg — I've  neither  slep  nor 
eton ;  I've  neglected  my  pantry ;  I've  been  wandring  from  house  to 
house  with  this  riddl  in  my  hand,  and  nobody  can  understand  it. 
All  Mr.  Frazier's  men  are  wild,  looking  gloomy  at  one  another,  and 
asking  what  this  may  be.  All  the  cumtributore  have  been  spoak  to. 
The  Doctor,  who  knows  every  languitch,  has  tried  and  giv'n  up ; 
we've  sent  to  Docter  Pettigi'uel,  who  reads  horyglifics  a  deal  czicr 
than  my  way  of  spellin' — no  anscr.  Quick  !  quick  with  a  fifth 
edition,  honored  Barnet,  and  set  us  at  rest !  While  your  about  it, 
please,  too,  to  igsplain  the  two  last  lines  : — • 

"  His  merry  bark  with  England's  Hag  to  crown  her." 

See  what  dcUexy  of  igsiDreshn,  "  a  flag  to  crown  her  !  " 

"  His  merry  bark  with  England's  flag  to  crown  hor, 
Fame  for  my  hopes,  and  woman  in  my  cares." 

Likewise  the  following  : — 

"  Girl,  beware, 
The  love  that  trifles  round  the  charms  it  gilds 
Oft  ruins  while  it  shines." 

Igsplanc  this,  men  and  angels  !  I've  tried  every  way  ;  backards, 
forards,  and  in  all  sorts  of  trancepositions,  as  thus  : — 


Or, 
Or, 

Or, 
Or, 


The  love  that  ruins  round  the  charms  it  shines, 
Gilds  while  it  trifles  oft ; 

The  charm  that  gilds  around  the  love  it  ruins, 
Oft  trifles  while  it  shines  ; 

The  ruins  that  love  gilds  and  shines  around, 
Oft  trifles  where  it  charms  ; 

Love,  while  it  charms,  shines  round,  and  ruins  oft, 
The  trifles  that  it  gilds  ; 

The  love  that  trifles,  gilds  and  ruins  oft, 
While  round  the  charms  it  shines. 


All  which  are  as  sensable  as  the  fust  passidge. 

And  with  this  I'll  alow  my  friend  Smith,  who  has  been  silent' 
all   this  time,  to  say  a  few  words.     He  has  not  written  near  so 


372     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.  J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

much  as  me  (being  an  infearor  genus,  betwigst  ourselves),  but  he 
says  he  never  had  such  mortial  dilBcklty  with  anything  as  with  tlie 
dixcripshn  of  the  plott  of  your  jiease.     Here  his  letter  : — 

f        To  Ch-rl-s  F-tzr-y  Pl-nt-g-n~t  Y-ll-wjd-sh,  Esq.,  <£-c.  <tc. 

30.'/ii\"or.,  1S39. 

My  dear  axd  honoured  Sir, — I  have  the  pleasure  of  laying 
before  you  the  following  description  of  the  plot,  and  a  few  remarks 
upon  tlic  style  of  the  piece  called  "  The  Sea  Captain." 

Five-and-twenty  years  back,  a  certain  Lord  Anuulel  had  a 
(laughter,  heiress  of  his  estates  and  property  :  a  jjoor  cousin,  Sir 
Maurice  Beevor  (being  next  in  succession) ;  and  a  page,  Arthur  Le 
Mcsnil  by  name. 

Tlie  daugliter  took  a  fancy  for  tlie  page,  and  the  young  persons 
were  married  unknown  to  his  Lordsliip. 

Tliree  days  before  her  confinement  (thinking,  no  doubt,  that 
j)eriod  favourable  for  travelling),  the  young  couple  liad  agreed  to 
run  away  together,  and  had  reached  a  chai)el  near  on  the  sea-coast 
from  which  tliey  were  to  embark,  when  Lord  Arundel  abruptly  put 
a  stnji  to  tlieir  proceedings  by  causing  one  Gausseu,  a  pirate,  to 
murder  tlie  page. 

His  daugiiter  was  carried  back  to  Arundel  House,  and,  in  three 
days,  gave  birth  to  a  son.  Wliether  his  Lordshij)  knew  of  this  birth 
I  caimot  say;  the  infant,  however,  was  never  acknowledged,  but 
carried  by  Sir  Maurice  Beevor  to  a  priest,  Onslow  by  name,  who 
educated  the  lad  ami  kept  hiiu  for  twelve  years  in  i)rofound  ignorance 
of  his  birth.     The  boy  v/ent  by  the  name  of  Norman. 

Lady  Arundel  meanwhile  marrieil  again,  again  became  a  widow, 
but  had  a  second  son,  wlio  was  the  acknowledged  heir,  and  called  Lord 
Ashdale.  Old  Lord  Arundel  died,  and  her  Ladyship  became  countess 
in  her  own  right. 

When  Norman  was  about  twelve  years  of  age,  his  mother,  who 
wisheil  to  "  vaft  young  Arthur  to  a  distant  land,"  had  him  sent  on 
board  ship.  Who  should  the  captain  of  the  ship  be  but  Gaussen, 
who  received  a  smart  bribe  from  Sir  Maurice  Beevor  to  kill  the 
lad.  Accordingly,  Gausseu  tied  him  to  a  ]ilauk,  and  pitched  him 
overboard, 

■  •••••• 

About  thirteen  years  after  these  circumstances,  Violet,  an  orphan 
niece  of  Lady  Arundel's  second  husband,  came  to  ]iass  a  few  weeks 
with  her  Ladyship.  She  had  just  come  from  a  seii-voyage,  and  had 
been  saved  from  a  wicked  Algerine  by  an  English  sea  captain.    This 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI  373 

eea  cai>taiii  was  no  other  than  Norman,  who  liad  been  ijickcd  up  off 
liis  phmk,  and  fell  in  love  with,  and  was  loved  by.  Miss  Violet. 

A  short  time  after  Violet's  arrival  at  her  aunt's  the  captain  came 
to  pay  her  a  visit  his  ship  anchoring  off  the  coast,  near  Lady  Arundel's 
residence.  By  a  singular  coincidence,  that  rogue  Gaussen's  ship 
anchored  in  the  harbour  too.  Gaussen  at  once  knew  his  man,  for 
he  had  "  tracked  "  him  (after  drowning  him),  and  he  informed  Sir 
Maurice  Beevor  that  young  Norman  was  alive. 

Sir  Maurice  Beevor  informed  her  Ladyship.  How  should  she 
get  rid  of  him  1  In  this  wise.  He  Avas  in  love  with  Violet,  let  him 
marrj^  her  and  be  otf ;  for  Lord  Ashdale  was  in  love  with  his  cousin 
too ;  and,  of  course,  could  not  marry  a  young  woman  in  her  station 
of  life.  "You  have  a  chaplain  on  board,"  says  her  Ladyship  to 
Cajitain  Norman ;  "  let  him  attend  to-night  in  the  ruined  chapel, 
marry  Violet,  and  away  with  you  to  sea."  By  this  means  she  hoped 
to  be  quit  of  him  for  ever. 

But  unfortunately  the  conversation  had  been  overheard  by  Beevor, 
and  reported  to  Ashdale.  Ashdale  determined  to  be  at  the  chapel 
and  carry  off  Violet ;  as  for  Beevor,  he  sent  Gaussen  to  the  chapel 
to  kill  l:)oth  Ashdale  and  Norman :  thus  there  would  only  be  Lady 
Arundel  between  him  and  the  title. 

Norman,  in  the  meanwhile,  who  had  been  walking  near  the 
chapel,  had  just  seen  his  worthy  old  friend,  the  priest,  most  barbar- 
ously murdered  there.  Sir  Maurice  Beevor  had  set  Gaussen  upon 
him  ;  his  reverence  was  coming  with  the  papers  concerning  Norman's 
birth,  which  Beevor  wanted  in  order  to  extort  money  from  the 
Countess.  Gaussen,  A\-as,  liowever,  ol)liged  to  run  before  he  got  the 
papers ;  and  the  clergyman  had  time,  before  he  died,  to  tell  Norman 
the  story,  and  give  him  the  documents,  with  which  Norman  sped  off 
to  the  castle  to  have  an  interview  with  his  mother. 

He  lays  his  wliite  cloak  and  hat  on  the  table,  and  T>cgs  to  be 
left  alone  with  her  Ladyship.  Lord  Ashdale,  who  is  in  the  room, 
surlily  quits  it ;  but,  going  out,  cunningly  puts  on  Norman's  cloak. 
"  It  will  be  dark,"  says  he^  "  down  at  the  chapel ;  Violet  won't  know 
me  ;  and,  egad  !  I'll  run  off  with  her." 

Norman  has  his  interview.  Her  Ladyship  acknowledges  him,  for 
she  cannot  help  it ;  but  will  not  embrace  him,  love  him,  or  have 
anything  to  do  with  him. 

Away  he  goes  to  the  chapel.  His  chaplain  was  there  waiting  to 
marry  him  to  Violet,  his  boat  was  there  to  carry  him  on  board  his 
shij),  and  Violet  was  there,  too. 

"  Norman,"  says  she,  in  the  dark,  "  dear  Norman,  I  knew  you 
by  your  white  cloak;  here  I  am."  And  she  and  the  man  in  s. 
cloak  go  off  to  the  inner  chajiel  to  be  married. 


374     MEMOIRS    OF    MR.   C.   J.  YELLOWPLUSII 

There  waits  Master  Gausscn ;  he  has  seized  the  cliaplain  and 
the  boat's  crew,  and  is  just  about  to  murder  tlie  man  in  tlie  cloak, 
when — 

Norman  rushes  in  and  cuts  him  down,  much  to  the  sur- 
prise of  Miss,  for  she  never  suspected  it  was  sly  Ashdale  who 
had  come,  as  wc  have  seen,  disguised,  and  very  nearly  paid  for  his 
masquerading. 

Ashdale  is  very  grateful;  l)ut,  when  Norman  jxirsists  in  marry- 
ing Violet,  he  says — no,  ho  shan't.  He  shall  figlit ;  he  is  a  coward 
if  he  doesn't  fight.  Norman  flings  down  his  sword,  and  says  he 
vj07iH  fight  ;  and — 

Lady  Arundel,  who  has  been  at  ])rayers  all  this  time,  rushing 
in,  says,  "  Hold  !  this  is  your  brotlier,  Percy — your  elder  brother  !  " 
Here  is  some  rcstiveness  on  Ashdale's  part,  but  he  finishes  by 
embracing  his  brother. 

Norman  burns  all  the  papers ;  vows  he  will  never  peach ;  re- 
conciles himself  with  his  mother;  says  he  will  go  loser;  but, 
having  ordered  his  shij)  to  "  veer "  round  to  the  chapel,  orders 
it  to  veer  back  again,  for  he  will  pass  the  honeymoon  at  Ai'undel 
Castle. 

As  you  have  been  pleased  to  ask  my  opinion,  it  strikes  me  that 
there  are  one  or  two  very  good  notions  in  this  plot.  But  tlie  author 
does  not  fail,  as  he  would  modestly  have  us  believe,  from  ignorance 
of  stage  business ;  he  seems  to  know  too  much,  rather  than  too  little, 
about  the  stage ;  to  be  too  anxious  to  cram  in  efi'ccts,  int-idcnts, 
per[)lexitics.  There  is  the  perplexity  concerning  Ashdale's  murder, 
and  Norman's  murder,  and  the  priest's  murder,  and  the  page's  murder, 
and  Gaussen's  murder.  Tliere  is  the  i)erplexity  about  the  papers, 
and  that  about  the  hat  and  cloak  (a  silly  foolish  obstacle),  which 
only  tantalise  the  spectator,  and  retard  the  march  of  the  drama's 
action  :  it  is  as  if  the  author  had  said,  "  I  must  have  a  new  incident 
in  every  act,  I  must  ke(!i)  tickling  the  sjjcctator  perpetually,  and 
never  let  him  ofi"  until  the  fall  of  the  curtain." 

The  same  disagreeable  bustle  and  petty  complication  of  intrigue 
you  may  remark  in  the  author's  drama  of  "  Richelieu."  "  The 
Lady  of  Lyf)ns  "  was  a  much  simpler  and  better  wrought  ])l()t ;  the 
incidents  following  each  other  not  too  swiftly  or  startingly.  In 
"  Richelieu,''  it  always  seemed  to  me  as  if  one  heard  doors  per- 
petually clajjping  and  banging ;  one  was  i)uzzlod  to  follow  the  train 
of  conversation,  in  the  midst  of  the  perpetual  small  noises  that 
distracted  one  right  and  left. 

Nor  is  the  list  of  characters  of  "The  Sea  Captain"  to  be 
despised.  The  outlines  of  all  of  them  are  good.  A  mother,  for 
whom  one  feels  a  proper  tragic  mixture  of  hatred  and  pity;    a 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI  375 

gallant  single-hearted  son,  wlioin  she  disdains,  and  who  conquers 
her  at  last  by  his  noble  conduct ;  a  dashing  hauglity  Tyljalt 
of  a  brother ;  a  m  icked  poor  cousin,  a  pretty  maid,  and  a  fierce 
buccanier.  These  people  might  pass  three  hours  ver>'  well  on 
the  stage,  and  interest  the  audience  hugely ;  but  the  author  fails 
in  filling  up  the  outlines.  His  language  is  absurdly  stilted,  fre- 
quently careless ;  the  reader  or  spectator  hears  a  number  of  loud 
speeches,  but  scarce  a  dozen  lines  that  seem  to  belong  of  ;:ature  to 
the  speakers. 

Nothing  can  be  more  fulsome  or  loathsome  to  my  mind  than  the 
continual  sham-religious  claptraps  which  the  author  has  put  into 
the  mouth  of  his  liero ;  nothing  more  imsailorlikc  than  his  namby- 
pamby  starlit  descriptions,  which  my  ingenious  colleague  has,  I  see, 
alluded  to.  "  Thy  faith  my  anchor,  and  thine  eyes  my  haven," 
cries  the  gallant  captain  to  his  lady.  See  how  loosely  the  sentence 
is  constructed,  like  a  thmisand  others  in  the  book.  The  captain  is  to 
cast  r.:ichor  -svith  the  girl's  fliith  in  her  own  eyes  :  either  image  might 
pass  by  itself,  but  together,  like  the  quadrupeds  of  Kilkenny,  they 
devour  each  other.  Tlie  captain  tells  his  lieutenant  to  hid  his  bark 
veer  round  to  a  point  in  the  harbour.  "Was  ever  such  language 
My  Lady  gives  Sir  Maurice  a  thousand  pounds  to  ivaft  him  (her 
son)  to  some  distant  shore.  Nonsense,  sheer  nonsense ;  and,  what 
is  Avorse,  affected  nonsense  ! 

Look  at  the  comedy  of  the  poor  cousin.  "  There  is  a  great  deal 
of  game  on  the  estate — partridges,  hares,  wild-geese,  snipes,  and 
plovers  {smacking  his  lips) — besides  a  magnificent  i)resen"e  of 
siKirrows,  which  I  can  sell  to  the  little  hlackgtiards  in  the  streets 
at  a  penny  u  hundred.  But  I  am  very  poor — a  verj'  poor  old 
knight!"  ' 

Is  this  ■«it  or  nature  ?  It  is  a  kind  of  sham  wit :  it  reads  as 
if  it  were  wit,  but  it  is  not.  What  poor,  poor  stuff,  about  the  little 
blackguard  boys  !  wliat  flimsy  ecstasies  and  siEy  "  smacking  of  lips  " 
about  the  plovers  !  Is  this  the  man  who  writes  for  the  next  age  \ 
0  fie  !     Here  is  another  joke  : — - 

SIR    ilAUKICE. 

"  Mice  !  zounds,  how  can  I 
Keep  mice  !  I  can't  afford  it !     They  were  starved 
To  death  an  age  ago.     The  last  was  found 
Come  Christmas  three  years,  stretched  beside  a  bono 
In  that  same  larder,  so  consumed  and  worn 
By  pious  fast,  'twas  awful  to  behold  it ! 
I  canonised  its  corpse  in  spirits  of  wine, 
And  set  it  in  tlie  porch — a  solemn  warning 
To  thieves  and  be-jrgars  !  " 


376     MEMOIRS    TO    MR.    C.   J.  YELLOWPLUSH 

Is  not  this  rare  wit  1  "  Zounds  !  how  can  I  keep  ixiice  1 "  is 
well  enough  for  a  miser;  not  too  new,  or  brilliant  either;  but  this 
miserable  dilution  of  a  thin  joke,  this  wretched  hunting  down  of 
the  poor  mouse  !  It  is  humiliating  to  think  of  a  man  of  esjyrit 
harping  so  long  on  such  a  mean  pitiful  string.  A  man  who  aspires 
to  immortality,  too  !  I  .doubt  whether  it  is  to  be  gained  thus ; 
whether  our  author's  words  are  not  too  loosely  built  to  make 
"  starry-pointing  pyramids "  of.  Horace  clipped  and  squared  his 
blocks  more  carefully  before  he  laid  the  monument  which  imber 
edax,  or  aquila  imj^otens,  or  fuga  teraporum,  might  assail  in  vain. 
Even  old  Ovid,  when  he  raised  his  stately  shining  lieathen  temple, 
had  placed  some  columns  in  it,  and  hewn  out  a  statue  or  two 
which  deserved  the  immoi'tality  that  he  prophesied  (somewhat 
arrogantly)  for  himself  But  let  not  all  be  looking  forward  to  a 
future,  and  fancying  that,  "  incerti  spatium  dum  finiat  oivi" 
our  books  are  to  be  immortal.  Alas !  the  way  to  immort&lity 
is  not  so  easy,  nor  will  our  "  Sea  Captain "  be  permitted  such 
an  unconscionable  cruise.  If  all  the  immortalities  were  really  to 
have  their  wish,  what  a  work  would  our  descendants  have  to  study 
them  all ! 

Not  yet,  in  my  humble  opinion,  lias  the  honourable  baronet 
achieved  this  deathless  consummation.  There  will  come  a  day 
(may  it  be  long  distant !)  when  the  very  best  of  his  novels  will  be 
forgotten;  and  it  is  reasonable  to  suppose  that  liis  dramas  will 
pass  out  of  existence,  some  time  or  other,  in  the  lapse  of  the  secula 
seculorum.  In  the  meantime,  my  dear  Plush,  if  you  ask  me  what 
the  great  obstacle  is  towards  the  dramatic  fame  and  merit  of  our 
friend,  I  would  say  that  it  does  not  lie  so  much  in  hostile  critics  or 
feeble  health,  as  in  a  careless  habit  of  writing,  and  a  peevish  vanity 
which  causes  him  to  shut  his  eyes  to  his  faults.  Tlie  question  of 
original  capacity  I  will  not  moot;  one  may  think  very  highly  of 
the  honourable  baronet's  talent,  without  rating  it  quite  so  high  as 
he  seems  disposed  to  do. 

And  to  conclude :  as  he  has  chosen  to  combat  the  critics  in 
person,  the  critics  are  surely  justified  in  being  allowed  to  address 
him  directly. 

With  best  compliments  to  Mrs.  Yellowplush,  I  have  the  honour 
to  be,  dear  Sir,  your  most  faithful  and  obliged  huml)le  servant, 

John  Thomas  Smith. 

And  now,  Smith  having  finisht  his  letter,  I  thiidc  I  can't  do 
better  than  clothes  mine  lickwise ;  for  though  I  should  never  be 
tired  of  talking,  praps  the  public  may  of  hearing,  and  therefore 
it's  best  to  shut  up  shopp. 


EPISTLES    TO    THE    LITERATI  377 

"What  I've  said,  respected  Barnit,  I  lioap  you  woaii't  take  un- 
kind. A  play,  you  see,  is  public  property  for  every  one  to  say  his 
say  on ;  and  I  think,  if  you  read  your  prcfez  over  agin,  you'll  see 
that  it  ax  as  a  direct  incouridgincnt  to  us  critix  to  come  forrard  and 
notice  you.  But  don't  fansy,  I  besitch  you,  that  we  are  actiatcd 
by  hostillaty :  fust  writ-  a  good  ]ilay,  and  you'll  see  'vvell  prays  it 
fast  enufF.  Waiting  which,  Agraji,  Munseer  le  Chevaleer,  I'ashur- 
ance  de  ma  hot  cumsideratun.      Voter  distangy,  Y. 


THE   DIARY   OF 

C.    JEAMES    DE    LA    PLUCHE,    ESQ, 
WITH    HIS    LETTERS 


THE    DIARY    OF 
C.  JEAMES   DE   LA  PLUCHE,   Eso. 

A    LUCKY  SPECULATOR 


CONSIDERABLE  sensation  has  been  excited  in  the  upper  and 
hiwer  circles  in  the  West  End,  by  a  startling  piece  of  good 
fortune  which  has  befallen  James  Plush,  Esq.,  lately  footman 
in  a  respected  family  in  Berkeley  Square. 

"  One  day  last  week,  Mr.  James  waited  upon  his  master,  who 
is  a  banker  in  the  City ;  and  after  a  little  blushing  and  hesitation, 
said  he  had  saved  a  little  money  in  service,  was  anxious  to  retire, 
and  to  invest  his  savings  to  advantage. 

"  His  master  (we  believe  we  may  mention,  without  offending 
delicacy,  the  well-known  name  of  Sir  George  Flimsy,  of  the'house  of 
Flimsy,  Diddler,  and  Flash)  smilingly  asked  Mr.  James  what  was 
the  amount  of  his  savings,  wondering  considerably  how,  out  of  an 
income  of  thirty  guineas — the  main  part  of  which  he  spent  in 
bouquets,  silk  stockings,  and  perfumery — Mr,  Plush  could  have 
managed  to  lay  by  anything. 

"  Mr=  Plush,  with  some  hesitation,  said  he  had  been  speculathui 
in  railroods,  and  stated  his  winnings  to  have  been  thirty  thousand 
pounds.  He  had  commenced  his  speculations  with  twenty,  borrowed 
from  a  fellow-servant.  He  had  dated  his  letters  from  the  house  in 
Berkeley  Square,  and  humlily  begged  pardon  of  his  master  for  not 
having  instructed  the  Railway  Secretaries  who  answered  his  applica- 
tions to  apply  at  the  area-bell. 

"  Sir  George,  who  was  at  breakfost,  instantly  rose,  and  shook 
Mr.  P.  by  the  hand ,  Lady  Flimsy  begged  him  to  be  seated,  r.ud 
partake  of  the  breakfast  which  he  had  laid  on  the  table ;  and  lias 
subsequently  invited  him  to  her  grand  dejeuner  at  Richmond,  \\-\\qvc 
it  was  observed  that  Miss  Ennly  Flimsy,  her  beautiful  and  accom- 
plished seventh  daughter,  paid  the  lucky  gentleman  marked  attention. 


382  A   LUCKY    SPECULATOE 

"=We  hear  it  stated  that  Mr,  P.  is  of  a  very  ancient  family 
(Hugo  de  la  Pluclie  came  over  with  the  Conqueror) ;  and  the 
new  brougham  which  he  has  started  bears  the  ancient  coat  of  his 
race. 

"  He  has  taken  apartments  in  tlie  Albany,  and  is  a  director  of 
thirty-three  railroads.  He  proposes  to  stand  for  Parliament  at  the 
next  general  election  on  decidedly  Conservative  principles,  which  have 
always  been  the  politics  of  his  family, 

"  Report  says,  tliat  even  in  his  humble  capacity  Miss  Emily 
Flimsy  had  remarked  his  high  demeanour.  Well,  'None  but  the 
brave,'  say  we,  '  deserve  the  fair.'  " — 2Iorning  Paper. 

This  announcement  will  explain  the  following  lines,  which  have 
been  put  into  our  box*  with  a  West  End  post-mark.  If,  as  we 
believe,  they  are  written  by  the  young  woman  from  whom  the 
millionaire  borrowed  the  sum  on  which  he  raised  his  fortune,  what 
heart  will  not  melt  with  sympathy  at  her  tale,  and  pity  the  sorrows 
wliich  she  expresses  in  such  artless  language  1 

If  it  be  not  too  late ;  if  wealth  have  not  rendered  its  possessor 
callous :  if  poor  IMaryanue  he  still  alive ;  we  trust,  we  trust,  Mr, 
Plush  will  do  her  justice. 


"JEAMES   OF   BUCKLEY  SQUARE. 
•  "a  heligy. 

"Come  all  yo  gents  vot  cleans  the  plate, 

Como  all  yo  ladies  maids  so  fair — 
Vile  I  a  story  vill  relate 

Of  cruel  Jeames  of  Buckley  Square. 
A  tighter  lad,  it  is  confest, 

,Ke'er  valked  with  powder  in  his  air, 
Or  vore  a  nosegay  in  his  breast, 

Than  andsum  Jeames  of  Buckley  Square. 

O  Evns  !  it  vas  the  best  of  sights, 

Behind  his  Master's  co.ach  and  pair, 
To  see  our  Jeames  in  red  plush  tig'hts, 

A  driving  hoff  from  Buckley  Square.  ' 

He  vel  became  his  hagwilletts, 

He  cocked  his  at  with  such  a  hair; 
His  calves  and  viskers  vas  such  pets, 

That  hall  loved  Jeames  of  Buckley  Square. 

*  The  letter'box  of  Mr.  Punch,  in  whoso  columns  these  papers  were  first 
pohiishoil. 


A   LUCKY    SPECULATOR  ^8i 

He  pleased  the  hup-stairs  folks  as  veil, 

And  o  !  I  vithercd  with  daspair, 
Missis  vould  ring  the  parler  bell, 

And  call  up  Jeaines  in  Buckley  Square. 
Both  beer  and  sperrits  he  abhord 

(Sperrits  and  bcor  I  can't  a  boar), 
You  would  have  thought  he  vas  a  lord 

Down  in  our  All  in  Buckley  Square. 

Last  year  he  visper'd,  '  Mary  Ann, 

Veu  I've  an  under'd  pound  to  spare, 
To  take  a  public  is  my  plan, 

And  leave  this  hojous  liUcklej'  Squaro.' 
0  how  my  gentle  heart  did  bound, 

To  think  that  I  his  name  should  boar. 
'  Dear  Jeames,'  says  I,  '  I've  twenty  pound,* 

And  gev  them  him  in  Buckley  Square. 


Our  master  vas  a  City  gent. 

His  name's  in  railroads  everywhere, 
And  lord,  vot  lots  of  letters  vent 

Betwigst  his  brokers  and  Buckley  Square  ! 
My  Jeames  it  was  the  letters  took, 

And  read  them  all  (I  think  it's  fair), 
And  took  a  leaf  from  Master's  book, 

As  hothcrs  do  in  Buckley  Squaro. 

Encouraged  with  my  twenty  pound, 

Of  which  poor  I  was  unttvare, 
He  wrote  the  Companies  all  round, 

And  signed  hisself  from  Buckley  Square. 
Ar.d  how  John  Porter  used  to  grin, 

As  day  by  day,  share  after  share, 
Came  railvay  letters  pouring  in, 

'J.  Plush,  Esquire,  in  Buckley  Square.' 

Our  servants'  All  was  in  a  rage- 
Scrip,  stock,  curves,  gradients,  bull  and  b©a?^ 

Vith  butler,  coachman,  groom  and  page, 
Vas  all  the  talk  in  Buckley  S(iuare. 

But  0  !  imagine  vot  I  felt 

Last  Vensday  voek  as  ever  were  ; 

I  gits  a  letter,  which  I  spelt 

'  Miss  M.  A.  Hoggins,  Buckley  Square.' 

He  sent  hie  back  my  money  true-^ 

He  sent  me  back  my  lock  of  air, 
Atid  said,  '  jNIy  dear,  I  bid  ajew 

To  JiLary  Hann  and  Buckley  Square. 


^84  A    LETTER    FROM    "JEAMES^' 

Think  not  to  marrj-,  foolish  Hann, 

With  people  who  your  betters  are  ; 
James  Plush  is  now  a  gentleman, 

And  you — a  cook  in  Buckley  Square. 

'  I've  thirty  thousand  guineas  won, 

In  six  sTiort  months,  by  genus  rare ; 
You  little  thought  what  Jeanies  was  on, 

Poor  Mary  Hann,  in  Buckley  Square. 
I've  thirty  thousand  guineas  net, 

Powder  and  plush  I  scorn  to  vear  ; 
And  so.  Miss  Mary  Hann,  forget 

For  hever  Jcames,  of  Buckley  Square.'"' 

The  rest  of  the  MS.  is  illegible,  being  literally  Wcoshed  awa} 
in  a  flood  of  tears. 


A  LETTER  FROM  "  JEAMES,  OF  BUCKLEY  SQUARE." 

Albany,  Letter  X.     Avoxist  10,  1S45. 

"Sir, — Has  a  reglar  suscriber  to  your  emusing  paper,  I  beg 
leaf  to  state  that  I  should  never  have  done  so,  had  I  supposed  that 
it  was  your  abbit  to  igspose  the  mistaries  of  i>rivit  life,  and  to  hinjer 
the  dclligit  feelings  of  umble  individyouals  like  myself,  who  have  no 
ideer  of  being  made  the  subject  of  newspaper  criticism. 

"  I  elude,  Sir,  to  the  unjustafiable  use  which  has  been  made  of 
my  name  in  your  Journal,  where  both  my  muccantile  spcclations 
and  tlie  hinmost  j^ashns  of  my  art  have  been  brot  forrards  in  a 
ridicklus  way  for  the  public  emusemint. 

"  What  call,  Sir,  has  the  pidilic  to  inquire  into  the  suckmstansics 
of  my  engagements  with  Miss  Mary  Hann  Oggins,  or  to  meddle 
with  their  rupsher?  Why  am  I  to  be  maid  the  hobjick  of  your 
redicule  in  a  doggril'ballit' \n\\)C\\tQ<i  to  her?  I  say  imjjeivted, 
because,  in  mi/  time  at  least,  ]\Iary  Hann  could  only  sign  her  +  mark 
(luus  I've  hoften  witnist  it  for  her  when  she  paid  hin  at  the  Savings 
Bank),  and  has  for  sacrificinr/  to  the  Mewses  and  making  j^oatry, 
she  was  as  hincapihle  as  Mr.  Wakley  himself 

"  With  respect  to  the  ballit,  my  l)aleaf  is,  tliat  it  is  wrote  by  a 
footman  in  a  low  famly,  a  pore  retch  who  attempted  to  rivle  me  in 
my  affections  to  ]\Iary  Hann — a  feller  not  five  foot  six,  and  with  no 
more  calves  to  his  legs  than  a  donkey — who  was  always  a-ritin 
(having  been  a  doctor's  boy)  and  who  I  nockt  down  with  a  pint  of 
porter  (as  he  well  recklex)  at  the  3  Tuns  Jerndng  Street,  for  daring 


A    LETTER    FROM    *'JEAMES"  38.5 

to  try  to  make  a  but  of  me.  He  has  signed  Miss  H's  name  to  his 
nonsince  and  lies  :  and  you  lay  yourself  hopen  to  a  haction  for  lible 
for  insutting  them  in  your  paper. 

"  It  is  false  that  I  have  treated  Miss  H.  hill  in  hany  way. 
That  I  borrowed  201b  of  her  is  irew.  But  she  confesses  I  i)aid  it 
back.  Can  hall  people  say  as  much  of  the  money  thei/ve  lent  or 
borrowed?  No.  And  I  not  only  paid  it  back,  but  giv  her  the 
andsomest  pres'nts  :  ichich  I  never  should  have  eluded  to,  but  for 
tliis  attack.  Fust,  a  silver  thimble  (wliich  I  found  in  Missus's 
work-box) ;  secknd,  a  vollom  of  Byrom's  poems ;  third,  I  halways 
brought  her  a  glas  of  Chirasore,  when  we  ad  a  party,  of  which  she 
was  remarkable  fond.  I  treated  her  to  Hashley's  twice  (and  halways 
a  srimp  or  a  hoyster  by  the  way),  and  a  thoivsnd  deligit  attentions, 
which  I  sapose  count  for  not h ink. 

"  Has  for  marridge.  Haltered  suckmstancies  rendered  it  him- 
possable.  I  was  gone  into  a  new  spear  of  life — mingling  with  my 
native  aristoxy.  I  breathe  no  sallible  of  blame  against  Miss  H., 
but  his  a  hilliterit  cookmaid  fit  to  set  at  a  tashnable  table?  Do 
young  fellers  of  rank  genrally  marry  out  of  the  Kitching?  If  we 
cast  our  i's  upon  a  low-born  gal,  I  needn  say  it's  only  a  tempory 
distraction,  pore  j}assy  le  tong.  So  nnich  for  her  claims  ui)on  me. 
Has  for  that  beest  of  a  Doctor's  hoy  he's  unwuthy  the  notas  of  a 
Gentleman. 

"  That  I've  one  thirty  thousand  lb,  and  iwajn  more,  I  dont 
deny.  Ow  much  has  tlie  Kilossus  of  Railroads  one,  I  sliould  like 
to  know,  and  what  was  his  cappitle  %  I  hentered  the  market  with 
l?01li,  specklated  Jewdicious,  and  ham  what  I  ham.  So  may  you 
be  (if  you  have  2011i,  and  prajts  you  haven't — So  may  you  lie  :  if 
you  choose  to  go  in  &  win. 

"  I  for  my  part  am  jusly  prowd  of  my  suxess,  and  could  give 
you  a  hundred  instances  of  my  gTatatude.  For  igsample,  the  fust 
pair  of  bosses  I  bought  (and  a  better  i)air  of  steppers  I  dafy  you  to 
see  in  hany  curracle)  I  crisn'd  Hull  and  Selby,  in  grateful  elusion  to 
my  transackshns  in  that  railroad.  My  riding  Cob  I  called  very 
unhaptly  my  Dublin  and  Galway.  He  came  down  with  me  the 
other  day,  and  I've  jest  sold  him  at  \  discount. 

"  At  fust  with  prudence  and  modration  I  only  kep  tAvo  grooms 
for  my  stables,  one  of  whom  lickwise  waited  on  me  at  table.  I  have 
now  a  confidenshle  servant,  a  vally  de  shamber— He  curls  my  air ; 
inspex  my  accounts,  and  hansers  my  hinvitations  to  dinner.  I  call 
this  Vally  my  Trent  Valbj,  for  it  was  the  prophit  I  got  from  tliat 
exient  line,  which  injuiccd  me  to  ingage  him. 

"Besides  my  North  British  Plate  and  Breakfast  cqui]ndge— I 
have  two  handsom  suvvices  for  dinner— the  goold  plate  for  Sundays, 

2  F 


386  A   LETTER    FROM    "JEAMES" 

and  the  silver  for  common  use.  When  I  ave  a  great  party,  '  Trent,' 
I  say  to  my  man,  '  "we  will  have  the  London  and  Bummingham  plate 
to-day  (the  goold),  or  else  the  Manchester  and  Leeds  (the  silver).' 
I  bought  them  after  realising  on  the  abuf  lines,  and  if  people 
suppose  that  the  companys  made  me  a  presnt  of  the  plate,  how  can 
I  help  it? 

"  In  the  sam  way  I  say,  'Trent,  bring  us  a  bottle  of  Bristol  and 
Hexeter  ! '  or,  '  Put  some  Heastern  Counties  in  hice  ! '  He  knows 
what  I  mean ;  it's  the  wines  I  bought  upon  the  hospicioas  tummina- 
tion  of  my  counexshn  witli  those  two  railroads. 

"  So  strong,  indeed,  as  this  abbit  become,  that  being  asked  to 
stand  Godfather  to  the  youngest  Miss  Diddle  last  weak,  I  had  her 
christened  (provisionally)  Rosamell — from  the  French  line  of  which 
I  am  Director ;  and  oidy  the  other  day,  finding  myself  rayther 
unwell,  '  Doctor,'  says  I  to  Sir  Jeames  Clark,  *  'Ive  sent  to  considt 
you  because  my  Midlands  are  out  of  honler ;  and  I  want  you  to 
send  them  up  to  a  jnemiiun.'  The  Doctor  lafd,  and  I  beleave  told 
the  story  subsquintly  at  Bu(;kinum  P-ll-s. 

"  But  I  will  trouble  you  no  fatlier.  My  sole  objict  in  writing 
has  been  to  clear  my  carrater — to  show  that  I  came  by  my  money 
in  a  honrable  Avay  :  that  I'm  not  ashaymd  nf  the  manner  in  which 
I  gayned  it,  and  ham  indeed  grateful  for  my  good  fortune. 

"  To  conclude,  I  have  ad  my  podigree  maid  out  at  the  Erald 
Hoffis  (I  don't  mean  the  Morninrf  Erald),  and  have  took  for  my 
arms  a  Stagg.  You  are  corrict  in  stating  that  I  am  of  hanriont 
Kormin  famly.  Tliis  is  more  than  Peal  can  say,  to  whomb  I  ap[ilic'd 
for  a  barnetcy ;  but  the  primmier  being  of  low  igstraction,  natrally 
stickles  for  his  border.  Consurvative  thouirh  I  be,  /  mai/  chanr/e 
my  opinions  before  the  next  Election,  wlien  I  intend  to  hofter 
myself  as  a  Candydick  for  Parlymint.  Meanwhile,  I  have  the 
honor  to  be,  Sir,  your  most  obeajnt  Survnt, 

"Fitz-James  de  la  Pluche." 


THE    DIARY 


ONE  day  in  the  panic  week,  our  friend  Jeames  called  at  our 
office,  evidently  in  great  perturbation  of  mind  and  disorder 
of  dress.  He  had  no  tiower  in  his  button-hole ;  his  yellow 
kid  gloves  were  certainly  two  days  old.  He  had  not  above  three 
of  the  ten  chains  he  usually  sjjorts,  and  his  great  coarse  knotty- 
knuckled  old  hands  were  deprived  of  some  dozen  of  the  rubies, 
emeralds,  and  other  cameos  witli  which,  since  his  elevation  to 
•fortune,  the  poor  fellow  has  thought  fit  to  adoni  himself 

"  How's  scrip,  Mr.  Jeames  % "  said  we  pleasantly,  greeting  our 
esteemed  contributor. 

"  Scrip  be  ,"   replied   he,  with   an   expression  we   cannot 

repeat,  and  a  look  of  agony  it  is  impossible  to  descril)e  in  i)rint, 
and  walked  about  the  parlour  whistling,  humming,  rattling  his  keys 
and  coppers,  and  showing  other  signs  of  agitation.  At  last,  "  Mr. 
Punch"  says  he,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  "  I  wish  to  speak  to 
you  on  a  pint  of  businiss.  I  wish  to  be  paid  for  my  contribewtions 
to  your  paper.  Suckmstances  is  altered  with  me.  I — I — in  a 
word,  can  you  lend  me  £ for  the  account  ?  " 

He  named  the  sum.  It  was  one  so  great  that  we  don't  care 
to  mention  it  here ;  but  on  receiving  a  cheque  for  the  amount  (on 
Messrs.  Pump  and  Aldgate,  our  bankers),  tears  came  into  the  honest 
fellow's  eyes.  He  squeezed  our  hand  until  he  nearly  wrung  it  off, 
and  shouting  to  a  cab,  he  plunged  into  it  at  our  office-door,  and  was 
off  to  the  City. 

Returning  to  om-  study,  we  found  he  had  left  on  our  table  an 
open  pocket-book,  of  the  contents  of  which  (for  the  sake  of  safety) 
we  took  an  inventory.  It  contained — three  tavcrn-bills,  paid;  a 
tailor's  ditto,  unsettled  ;  forty-nine  allotments  in  different  companies, 
twenty-six  thousand  seven  hundred  shares  in  all,  of  which  the 
market  value  we  take,  on  an  average,  to  be  \  discount ;  and  in  an. 
old  bit  of  paper  tied  with  pink  riband  a  lock  of  chestnut  hair,  with 
•the  initials  M.  A.  H. 

In  the  diary  of  'the  pocket-book  was  a  journal,  jotted  down  by 
the  proprietor  from  time  to  time.    At  first  the  entries  are  insignificant ; 


388  THE    DIAEY   OF 

as,  for  instance  : — "  3rc?  January — Our  Iteer  in  the  Suvnts'  Hall  so 
precious  small  at  this  Christmas  time  that  I  reely  muss  give  warning, 
&  wood,  but  for  my  dear  Mary  Hann."  "  Fehruary  7 — That  hroot 
Screw,  the  Butler,  wanted  to  kis  her,  but  my  dear  Mary  Haun  boxt 
his  hold  hears,  &  served  him  right.  /  datest  Screw," — and  so  forth. 
Then  the  diary  relates  to  Stock  Exchanije  operations,  until  we  come 
to  the  time  when,  having  achieved  his  successes,  Mr.  James  quitted 
Berkeley  Square  and  his  livery,  and  began  his  life  as  a  speculator  and 
a  gentleman  upon  town.  It  is  from  the  latter  part  of  his  diary  that 
we  make  the  following 

EXTRAX  :— 

"  Wen  I  anounced  in  the  Servnts  All  my  axeshn  of  forting,  and 
that  by  the  exasize  of  my  own  talince  and  ingianiuty  I  had  reerlized 
a  summ  of  20,000  lb.  (it  was  only  5,  but  M-hat's  the  use  of  a  mann 
•lepreshiating  the  qualaty  of  his  own  mackyrel?) — wen  I  enounced 
my  abmp  intention  to  cut — you  should  have  scan  the  sensiition 
among  hall  the  people !  — Cook  wanted  to  know  whether  I  W(X)dn 
like  a  sweatbred,  or  the  slise  of  the  breast  of  a  Cold  Tucky.  Screw, 
the  butler  (womb  I  always  detested  as  a  hinsalant  hoverbaring 
beest),  Iiegged  me  to  walk  into  the  Ilujiper  Servnts  All,  and  try  a 
glass  of  Shuperior  Sliatto  Margo.  Heven  Visp,  the  cuachmiii,  eld 
out  his  and,  &  said,  '  Jearaes,  I  hopes  theres  no  quarxaling  betwigst 
yoTi  &  me,  &  I'll  stand  a  pot  of  lieer  with  pleasure' 

"  The  sickofnts  I — that  wery  Cook  had  split  on  nie  to  the  House- 
keeper ony  last  week  (catchin  me  priggin  some  cold  tnttle  so<ip,  of 
which  I'm  remarkable  fond).  Has  for  the  butler,  I  always  ehonimi- 
nated  him  for  his  i)recious  snears  and  impercin'c  to  all  us  G<>nts  wli(» 
woar  livry  (he  never  would  sit  in  our  parlour,  faso<jth,  nor  ilrink 
out  of  our  mugs) ;  and  in  regard  of  Visp — why,  it  wa.s  ony  the  day 
before  the  wulgar  beest  hoffercd  to  fite  me,  and  thrctnd  to  give  me 
a  good  iding  if  I  refused.  '  Gentlemen  and  ladies,'  s;iys  I,  as  haughty 
as  may  be,  '  there's  nothink  that  I  want  for  that  I  can't  go  for  to  buy 
with  my  hown  money,  and  take  at  my  lodgins  in  the  Halbany,  letter 
Hex;  if  I'm  ungry  I've  no  need  to  refresh  myself  in  the  kifr/iinrf.' 
And  so  saying,  1  took  a  dignified  ajew  of  these  minnial  domestics  : 
and  ascending  to  my  epartment  in  the  4  pair  back,  bnished  the 
powder  out  of  my  air,  and  taking  off  those  hojous  li\Ties  for  hever, 
put  on  a  new  soot,  made  for  me  by  Cullin  of  St.  Jeames  Street,  and 
which  fitted  my  manly  figger  as  tight  as  whacks. 

"  There  was  one  pusson  in  the  house  with  womb  I  was  rayther 
anxious  to  evoid  a  persnal  leave-taking— Mary  Hann  Oi;gins,  I 
mean — for  my  art  is  natural  tender,  and  I  can't  a1)ide  seeing  a  pore 
gal  in  pane.     I'd  given  her  previous  the  inflimation  of  my  departiu-c 


G.  JEAMES    DE    LA    PLUCHE  389 

— doing  the  ausom  thing  by  her  at  tlie  same  time — paying  her 
back  201b.,  which  she'd  lent  me  6  months  before :  and  paying  her 
back  not  only  the  interest,  but  I  gave  her  an  andsome  pair  of  scissars 
and  a  silver  thimbil,  by  way  of  boanus.  'Mary  Hann/  says  I, 
*  suckmistancies  has  haltered  our  rellatif  positions  in  life.  I  <iuit  the 
Ser\Tits  Hall  for  ever  (for  has  for  your  marrying  a  person  in  my 
rank,  that,  my  dear,  is  hall  gammin),  and  so  I  wish  you  a  good-by,  my 
good  gal,  and  if  you  want  to  better  yourself  lialways  refer  to  me.' 

"Mtu-y  Hann  didn't  lixinser  my  speech  (which  I  think  was 
remarkable  k:iud),  but  hwked  a,t  me  in  the  jQice  quite  wild  like,  and 
bust  into  somethink  betwigst  a  laugh  &  a  cry,  and  fell  down  witii 
her  ed  on  the  kitching  dresser,  wliere  .she  lay  imtil  her  yoimg  Missis 
rang  the  dressing-room  belL  Would  you  bleave  it  I  She  left  the 
thimbil  &  things,  &  my  .check  for  201b.  10s.,  on  the  tiibil  when  she 
went  to  hanser  the  belL  And  now  I  heard  her  sobbing  and  vimper- 
ing  in  her  own  room  nex  but  one  to  mine,  vith  the  dore  oi>en,  j^eraps 
expe^-ting  I  should  come  in  and  s;iy  good-by.  But,  as  soon  as  I 
was  dressed,  I  cut  downstairs,  hony  desiring  Frederick  my  fellow- 
servnt,  to  feteh  me  a  cabb,  and  re(iuestb)g  jienuiasion  to  take  leaf 
of  my  lady  &  the  iJHnly  Ijefore  my  depaj"tm-e." 

•  ••«■«• 

"  How  Miss  Hendy  did  hogle  me  to  be  sure !  Her  Ladyship 
told  me  wliat  a  sweet  ^al  she  was — hamiable,  fond  of  poetry,  plays 
the  gitter.  Then  she  basked  me  if  I  liked  l»loud  hewties  and  haubin 
hair.  Haubin,  indeed  1  I  don't  like  au'rits  1  as  it  must  be  conlest 
Miss  Hemly's  his — and  has  for  a  hlond  huty,  she  has  pink  I's  like 
ii  Halbino,  and  her  face  looks  as  if  it  were  dipt  in  a  brann  nmsL 
How  .shesqueegcd  my  .&  as  she  went  away  '! 

"  Mary  Hann  now  has  haubin  air,  and  a  eiunplexion  like  roses 
".inJ  liivor)',  and  I's  as  blew  as  Evin, 

"  I  gev  Frnderick  two  and  six  for  fetcliiu  the  cabb — l)een  resolved 
to  liacl  tbe  gentlenum  in  luill  tlungs.     How  he  stared  ]  " 

"  '2^th. — I  am  now  director  of  forty-seven  Inwlvantageous  lines, 
and  liave  jjast  hall  <lay  in  the  Cittj^.  Althougli  I've  liate  or  nine 
•j;ew  sootss  of  close,  and  Mr.  Cullin  fits  me  hcligant,  yet  I  fansy  they 
hall  iieokonise  me.  Conshns  whispers  to  me,  '  Jeams,  you'r  hony  a 
footman  in  disguise  hafter  aH'  '^ 


"2S/A.— Been  to  the  Hopra.  Masic  tol  lol.  That  Lablash  is 
a  wopper  at  singing.  I  coodn  make  out  why  some  people  called 
out '  Bravo,'  some  '  Bravar,'  and  some  '  Bravee.'  '  Bravee,  Lablash/ 
says  I,  at  which  lieverybody  laft 


390  THE   DIARY   OF 

"  I'm  in  my  new  stall.  I've  had  new  cushings  put  in,  and  my 
harms  in  goold  on  the  back.  I'm  di-essed  hall  in  black,  excep  a 
gold  waistcoat  and  dimiud  studds  in  the  embriderd  busom  of  my 
shameese.  I  wear  a  Camallia  Jiponiky  iu  my  button-ole,  and  have 
a  double-barreld  opera-glas,  so  big,  that  I  make  Timmius,  my  seend 
man,  bring  it  iu  the  other  cabb. 

"  What  an  igstronry  exabishn  that  Pawdy  Carter  is  !  If  those 
four  gals  are  faries,  Tellioni  is  sutnly  tlie  fairy  Queeud.  She  can 
do  all  that  they  can  do,  and  somethink  they  can't.  There's  an 
indiscrible  grace  about  her,  and  Carlotty,  my  sweet  Carlotty,  she 
sets  my  art  in  flams. 

"  Ow  tliat  Miss  Hemly  was  noddin  and  winkin  at  me  out  of 
their  box  on  the  fourth  tear  ? 

"  What  linx  i's  she  must  av,     As  if  I  could  mount  up  there ! 

«  />..S'. — Talking  of  viouivtincj  hup  I  the  St.  Helena's  walked  up 
4  per  cent,  this  very  day." 


"  Ind  July — Rode  my  bay  oss  Desperation  in  the  park.  There 
was  me.  Lord  George  Ringwood  (Lord  Cinqbars'  son).  Lord  Bally- 
bunnion,  Honorable  Gapting  Trap,  &  sevral  bother  young  swells. 
Sir  John's  eanidge  there  in  coai'se.  Mss  Hemly  lets  fall  her 
booky  as  I  piss,  and  I'm  obleged  to  get  hoff  and  pick  it  hup,  & 
get  splashed  up  to  the  lus.  The  gettin  on  hossback  agin  is  halways 
the  juice  &  hall.  Just  as  I  was  hon.  Desperation  begins  a  porring: 
the  hair  with  his  4  feet,  and  sinks  down  so  on  his  anches,  that  I'm 
blest  if  I  didn't  slip  hoff  agin  over  his  tail ;  at  which  Ballybunnion 
&  the  bother  chaps  rord  with  lafter. 

"  As  Bally  has  istates  in  Queen's  County,  IVe  put  him  on  the 
St.  Helena  direction.  We  caU  it  the  '  Great  St.  Helena  Napoleon 
Junction,'  from  Jamestown  -to  Longwood.  The  French  are  taking 
it  hup  heagerly." 


"  6fA  Jnhj. — Dined  to-day  at  the  Lotndon  Tavin.  with  one 
of  the  Welsh  b(M-ds  of  Direction  I'm  lion.  The  CwTwmwrw  & 
Plm-tt-j^ddlywm,  with  tunnils  tlu-ough  Snowdin.g  and  Plinlimming. 

"Great  nashnallity  of  course.  Ap  Shinkin  in  the  chair,.  Ap 
Llwydd  in  the  vice ;  Welsh  mutton  for  dinner ;  Welsh  iron  knives 
and  forks;  Welsh  rabbit  after  dinner;  and  a  Welsh  har]3er,  be 
hanged  to  him  r  he  went  strummint  on  his  hojous  hinstrument, 
and  played  a  toon  piguliarly  disagreeble  to  me. 


C.  JEAMES    DE    LA    PLUCHE  391 

"  It  was  Pore  Mary  Hann.  The  clarrit  holmost  clioaked  me  as 
I  tried  it,  and  I  very  nearly  wep  myself  as  I  thought  of  her  hewtiflc 
blue  i's.  Why  ham  I  always  tliinkiu  about  that  gal "?  Sasiety  is 
sasiety,  it's  lors  is  irresistabl.  Has  a  man  of  rank  I  can't  marry  a 
serving-made.     What  would  Cinqbars  and  Ballybunnion  say  ? 

"  P.S. — I  don't  like  the  way  that  Cincibars  has  of  borroing 
money,  &  halways  making  me  i)!iy  the  bill.  Seven  pound  six  at 
the  '  Shipp,'  Grinnidge,  which  I  dont't  grudge  it,  for  Uerbyshire's 
brown  Ock  is  the  best  in  Urup  ;  nine  pound  three  at  the  *  Trafflygar,' 
and  seventeen  pound  sixteen  and  nine  at  the  '  Star  and  Garter,' 
Richmond,  with  the  Countess  St  Emilion  &  the  Baroness  Fron- 
tignac.  Not  one  word  of  French  could  I  speak,  and  in  coHsi|uince 
had  nothink  to  do  but  to  make  myself  halmost  sick  with  heating 
hices  and  desert,  while  the  bothers  were  chattering  and  i)arlyv()oing. 

"  Ha  !  I  remember  going  to  Griimidge  once  with  Mary  Hann, 
when  we  were  more  happy  (after  a  walk  in  the  park,  where  we  ad 
one  gingy-beer  betwigst  us),  more  appy  with  tea  and  a  simple  srimp 
than  with  hall  this  spleuder !  " 


"  Juhj  24. — My  first-floor  apartmince  in  the  Halbiny  is  now 
kimpletely  and  chasely  furnished  —  the  droring-room  with  yellow 
satting  and  silver  for  the  chairs  and  sophies— hemrall  green  tabbinet 
cartings  with  pink  velvet  and  goold  borders  &  fringes  ;  a  light  blue 
Haxminster  Carpit,  embroydered  with  tulii)s ;  tables,  secritaires, 
cunsoles,  &c.,  as  handsome  as  goold  can  make  them,  and  candle- 
sticks and  shandalers  of  the  purest  Hormolew. 

"  The  Dining-room  furniture  is  all  huak,  British  Hoak  ;  round 
igspanding  table,  like  a  trick  in  a  Pantiminie,  iccommadating  any 
number  from  8  to  24 — to  which  it  is  my  wish  to  restrict  my  parties. 
Curtings  crimsing  damask,  Chairs  crimsing  myrocky.  Portricks  of 
my  favorite  great  men  decorats  the  wall — namely,  the  Duke  of 
Wellington.  There's  four  of  his  Grace.  For  I've  remarked  that  if 
you  wish  to  pass  for  a  man  of  weight  and  considdration  you  sliould 
holways  praise  and  quote  him.  I  have  a  valluble  one  lickwise  of 
my  Queend,  and  2  of  Prince  Halbert — has  a  Field  Martial,  and 
halso  as  a  privat  Gent.  I  despise  the  vulgar  snears  that  are  daily 
hullered  aginst  that  Igsolted  Pottentat.  Betwigxt  the  Prins  & 
the  Duke  hangs  me,  in  the  Uniform  of  the  Ciuqbiir  Malitia,  of 
which  Cinqbars  has  made  me  Capting. 

"  The  Libery  is  not  yet  done. 

"  But  the  Bedd-roomb  is  the  Jem  of  the  wliole.     If  you  could 


392  THE    DIARY    OF 

but  see  it !  such  a  Bedworr  !  Ive  a  Shyval  Dressing  Glass  festooned 
with  Walanseens  Lace,  and  lighted  up  of  evenings  with  rose-coloiu-ed 
tapers.  Goold  dressing-case  and  twilet  of  Dresding  Cheny.  My 
bed  white  and  gold  with  curtings  of  pink  and.  silver  brocayd  held  up 
a  top  by  a  goold  Qpid  who  seems  always  a  smilin  angilliely  hon  me, 
has  I  lay  with  my  Ed  on  my  piller  hall  sarounded  with  the  finest 
Mechlin.  I  have  a  own  man,  a  yuth  under  him,  2  groombs,  and  a 
fimmale  for  the  House.  I've  7  osses  :  in  cors  if  I  himt  this  winter 
I  must  increase  my  ixtablishment. 

"jWB. — Heverythink  looking  well  in  tlie  City.  Saint  Helenas 
12  pm.  ;  Madagascars,  9| ;  Sartron  Hill  and  Rookery  Junction, 
24  ;  and  the  new  lines  in  prospick  equily  incouraging." 


"  People  phansy  it's  hall  gaiety  and  pleasure  the  life  of  us 
fashnabble  gents  about  townd — But  I  can  tell  'em  it's  not  hall  goold 
that  glitters.  They  dont  know  our  moniints  of  hagony,  hour  ours 
of  studdy  and  reflccshun.  Tliey  little  think  when  they  see  Jeanies 
de  la  Pluche,  Exquire,  worliug  round  in  a  walce  at  Halinax  with 
Lady  Hann,  or  lazaly  stepping  a  kidrill  with  Latly  Jane,  iMjring 
helegant  nothinx  into  the  Countess's  hear  at  dinner,  or  gallopin  his 
boss  Desperation  liover  tlie  exorcisiu  grouml  in  the  Piuk, — they 
little  think  that  leader  of  the  tong,  seaminkly  so  reckliss,  is  a 
careworn  mann  !  and  yet  so  it  is. 

"Imprymus.  I've  been  ableged  to  get  up  all  the  ecomplish- 
ments  at  double  quick,  &  to  apply  myself  with  treemc^njuous  energy. 

"  First, — in  border  to  give  myself  a  hideer  of  what  a  gentleman 
reely  is,  I've  read  the  nov\'le  of  '  Pelham '  six  times,  and  am  to  go 
through  it  i  times  mor. 

"  I  practis  ridin  and  the  acquirement  of  *  a  steady  and  &  a  sure 
seat  across  Country '  assijuously  4  times  a  week,  at  the  Hippyilnun 
Riding  Grounds.  Many's  the  tumbil  I've  ad,  and  the  aking  Ixjiins 
I've  suffered  from,  though  I  was  grinnin  in  the  Park  or  laliiu  at 
the  Opra. 

"  Every  morning  from  G  till  9,  the  innabitance  of  Halbany  may 
have  been  surprised  to  hear  the  sounds  of  music  ishuiug  from  the 
apartmince  of  Jeames  de  la  Pluche,  Exquire,  Letter  Hex.  It's  my 
dancing-master.  From  six  to  nine  we  have  walces  and  polkies — at 
nine  '  mangtiang  &  dejxitment,'  as  he  calls  it ;  &;  the  manner  of 
hentering  a  room,  complimenting  the'ost  and  ostess  &  comiK)tting 
yourself  at  table.  At  nine  I  henter  fh)m  my  dressing-room  (lias  to 
a  party),  I  make  my  bow — my  master  (lie's  a  Man[uis  in  France, 


C.   JEAMES    DE    LA    PLUCHE  393 

and  ad  misfortins,  being  connected  with  young  Lewy  Nepoleiini) 
reseaves  me — I  hadwance — speak  abowt  the  weather  &  tlie  topj)ix 
of  the  day  in  an  elegant  &  cussory  manner.  Brekfst  is  enounced 
by  Fitzwarren,  my  mann — we  precede  to  the  festive  bord — com- 
plimence  is  igschanged  with  the  manner  of  drinking  wind,  ach-essing 
your  neighbour,  employing  your  napking  &  iinger-glas,  &c.  And 
then  we  fall  to  brekfst,  when  I  jjrommiss  you  the  Marquis  don't  eat 
like  a  commoner.  He  says  I'm  gettn  on  very  well — soon  I  shall  be 
able  to  inwite  people  to  brekfst,  like  Mr.  Mills,  my  rivle  in  Halbany  ; 
Mr.  Macauly  (who  wrote  that  sweet  book  of  ballets,  '  The  Lays  of 
Hancient  Rum  ') ;  &  the  great  Mr.  Rodgers  himself." 


"  The  above  was  wrote  some  weeks  back,  I  have  given  brekfsts 
sins  then,  reglar  Deshunys.  I  have  ad  Earls  and  Ycounts — Barnits 
as  many  as  I  chose  :  and  the  pick  of  the  Railway  world,  of  which  I 
form  a  member.  Last  Sunday  was  a  grand  Fate.  I  had  the  Eltet 
of  my  friends  :  the  display  was  sumptions  ;  the  company  reshershy. 
Everything  that  Dellixy  could  suggest  was  provided  by  Gunter. 
I  had  a  Countiss  on  my  right  &  (the  Countess  of  Wigglesbury,  that 
loveliest  and  most  dashing  of  Staggs,  who  may  be  called  the  Railway 

Queend,  as  my  friend  George  H is  the  Railway  King)  on  my 

left  the  Lady  Blanche  Blucnose,  Prince  Towrowski,  the  great  Sir 
Huddlestone  Fuddlestone  from  the  North,  and  a  skoar  of  the  fust 
of  the  fashn.  I  was  in  my  gloary — the  dear  Countess  and  Lady 
Blanche  was  dying  with  laffing  at  my  joax  and  fun — I  was  keei)ing 
the  whole  table  in  a  roar — when  there  came  a  ring  at  my  door-bell, 
and  sudnly  Fitzwarren,  my  man,  henters  with  an  air  of  constanation. 
'  Theres  somebody  at  the  door,'  says  he,  in  a  visper. 

"  '  Oh,  it's  that  dear  Lady  Hemily,'  says  I,  '  and  that  lazy 
raskle  of  a  husband  of  hers.  Trot  them  in,  Fitzwarren  '  (for  you 
see,  by  this  time  I  had  adojjted  quite  the  manners  and  hcase  of  the 
arristoxy). — And  so,  going  out,  with  a  look  of  wonder  he  returned 
pi'esently  enouncing  Mr.  &  Mrs.  Blodder. 

"  I  turned  gashly  pail.  The  table — tlie  guests — the  Countiss — 
Towrouski,  and  the  rest,  weald  round  &  round  before  my  hagitated  I's. 
It  was  my  Grandmother  and  Huncle  Bill.  She  is  a  washerwoman 
at  Healing  Common,  and  he — he  keeps  a  wegetable  donkey-cart. 

"  Y,  Y  hadn't  John,  the  tiger,  igscluded  them  ?  He  had  tried. 
But  the  unconscious,  though  worthy  creeters,  adwanced  in  spite  of 
him,  Huncle  Bill  bringing  in  the  old  lady  grinning  on  his  harm  ! 

"  Phansy  my  feelinx." 


394 


THE    DIARY    OF 


"  Immagin  when  these  unfortnat  members  of  my  famly  hentered 
the  room  :  you  may  phansy  the  ixtonnishment  of  the  nobil  company 
presnt.  Old  Grann  looked  round  the  room  quite  estounded  by  its 
horientle  splender,  and  huncle  Bill  (pulling  ofl'  his  phautail,  &  seluting 
the  company  as  respeckfly  as  his  wulgar  natur  would  alow)  says— 
*  Crikey,  Je<imes,  youVe  got  a  better  birth  here  than  you  ad  where 
you  where  in  the  plush  and  powder  line.'  'Try  a  few  of  them 
plovers  hegSj   sir,'  I  says,  whishing,   I'm  asheamcd  to  say,   that 

somethink  would  choke  huncle  B :   '  and  I  hope,  mam,  now 

you've  ad  the  kindniss  to  wisit  me,  a  little  refreshment  won't  be 
out  of  your  way.' 

"  This  I  said,  detummind  to  put  a  good  fase  on  the  matter ;  and 
because  in  herly  times  I'd  rcseaved  a  great  deal  of  kindniss  from  the 
hold  lady,  which  I  should  be  a  roag  to  forgit.  She  paid  for  my 
schooling ;  she  got  up  my  fine  liiming  gratis  ;  shes  given  me  many  & 
many  a  lb ;  and  manys  the  time  in  appy  appy  days  when  me  and 
Maryhann  has  taken  tea.  But  i.ever  mind  that.  '  Mam,'  says  I, 
'  you  must  be  tired  hafter  your  walk.' 

"  '  Walk  1  Nonsince,  Jeames,'  says  she  ;  '  it's  Sunday,  &  I  came 
in,  in  the  cart.^  '  Blark  or  green  tea,  ma'am?'  says  Fitzwarren, 
intarupting  her.  And  I  will  say  the  feller  showed  liis  nonce  & 
good  breeding  in  tliis  difficklt  moiiiiiik  !  for  he'd  halrcady  silenced 
huncle  Bill,  who  mouth  was  now  full  of  muffinx,  am,  Blowny  sausag, 
Perrigole  pie,  and  other  dellixies. 

"  'Wouldn't  you  like  a  little  somethink  in  your  tea,  I\[aui,'  says 
that  sly  wagg  Cinqbars.  '//e  knows  what  I  likes,'  replies  the 
hawfle  hold  Lady,  pinting  to  me  (which  I  knew  it  very  well,  having 
often  seen  her  take  a  glass  of  hojous  gin  along  with  her  Bohee), 
and  so  I  was  ableeged  to  border  Fitzwarren  to  bring  round  the 
licures,  and  to  help  my  unfortnit  rellatif  to  a  bumper  of  Ollands. 
She  tost  it  hoff  to  the  elth  of  the  company,  .gi\ing  a  smack  with 
her  lipps  after  she'd  emtied  the  glas,  which  very  nearly  caused 
me  to  phaint  with  hagny.  But,  hu^kaly  for  me,  she  didn't  igspose 
herself  much  farther :  for  when  Cinqbars  was  pressing  her  to  take 
another  glas,  I  cried  out,  'Don't,  my  Lonl,'  on  ^which  old  Grann 
hearing  him  edresscd  by  his  title,  cried  out,  *  A  Lord  I  o  law  ! '  and 
got  up  and  made  him  a  cutsy,  and  coodnt  be  peswaded  to  speak 
another  word.  The  presents  of  the  noble  gent  hea^idently  made 
her  uneezy. 

"  The  Countiss  on  my  right  and  had  shownt  symtms  of  ixtream 
disgust  at  the  beayviour  of  my  relations,  and  having  called  for  her 
carridge,  got  up  to  leave  the  room,  with  the  most  dignified  hair.  I, 
of  coarse,  rose  to  conduct  her  to  her  weakle.  Ah,  what  a  contrast 
it  was  !     There  it  stood,  with  stars  and  garters  hall  hover  the 


C.  JEAMES    DE    LA    PLUCHE  395 

paiinels ;  the  footrain  iu  peach-coloured  tites ;  the  hosscs  worth  3 
hundred  a-piece ; — and  there  stood  the  horrid  Unnen-carf,  with 
'  ]\Iary  Blodder,  Laundress,  Ealing,  Middlesex,'  -wrota  on  tlie  bord, 
and  waiting  till  my  abandind  old  ])arint  should  come  out. 

"Cinqbars  insisted  upon  helping  her  in.  Sir  Huddlcstonc 
^  Euddlestone,  the  great  baniet  from  the  North,  who,  great  as  he 
is,  is  as  stewpid  as  a  howL,  looked  on,  hardly  tnisting  his  goggle 
I's  as  they  witnessed  the  sean.  But  little  lively  good  naterd  La(ly 
Kitty  Quickset,  who  was  going  away  with  the  Countiss,  held  her 
little  &  out  of  the  <^arridge  to  me  and  said,  *Mr.  De  la  Pluche,  you 
are  a  much  better  man  than  I  took  you  to  be.  Though  her  Lady- 
ship is  horrified,  &  tliough  your  Grandmother  did  take  gin  for 
Iweakfixst,  don't  give  her  up.  No  one  ever  came  to  harm  yet  for 
honoring  their  fetlier  &  mother.' 

^'  And  tliLs  was  a  sort  of  consolation  to  me,  and  I  observed  that 
all  the  good  fellers  thought  none  the  waiss  of  me.  Cinqbars  said 
I  was  a  trmup  for  sticking  up  for  the  old  washerwoman ;  Lord 
Creorge  Gills  said  she  should  have  his  linning ;  and  so  they  ciit 
tlieir  joax,  and  I  let  them.  But  it  was  a  great  releaf  to  my  mind 
when  the  cart  drove  hotf, 

"  Tl>ere  was  one  ])int  which  my  Grandmother  obsei"ved,  and 
which,  I  muss  say,  I  thought  liekwise :  '■  Ho,  Jeames,'  says  slie, 
*  hall  those  fine  ladies  iu  sattns  and  velvets  is  very  well,  but  there's 
not  one  of  em  can  hohl  a  candle  to  Mary  Hanu.'^' 


"  Eailway  Spec  is  going  on  phamusly.  You  should  see  how 
polite  they  har  at  my  bankers  now  !  Sir  Paul  Pump  Aldgate,  & 
Company.  They  bow  me  out  of  the  bank  parlor  as  if  I  was  a 
Nybobb.  Every  Tjody  ;says  I'm  worth  half  a  milliiun.  The  nuudier 
of  lines  they're  putting  me  upon,  is  inkuioseavable.  Pve  jnit  Fitz- 
warren,  my  man,  \\\)ow.  several.  Keginald  FitzAvarren,  Esquire,  looks 
.sjjloudid  in  a  persi)ectus ;  and  the  raskle  owns  that  be  has  made  two 
thowsnd. 

"  How  the  ladies,  &  men  too,  toiler  and  flatter  me !  If  I  go 
into  Lady  Biusis  hopra  box,  she  makes  room  for  me,  wlio  ever  is 
there,  and  cries  out,  '  0  Jo  make  room  for  that  dear  cre^iture  ! ' 
And  she  compl\Tnents  n)e  on  my  taste  in  musick,or  my  new  Broom-oss, 
or  the  phansy  of  my  weskit,  and  always  ends  by  asking  me  for  some 
shares.  Old  Lord  Bareacrea,  as  stift'as  a  poaker,  as  prowd  as  Loosyfer, 
as  poor  as  Joab_even  he  condysends  to  be  siwle  to  the  great  De 
la  Pluche,  and  liegged  me  at  Harthur's,  lately,  in  his  sollom  pomjius 
way,  'to  faver  him  with  five  minutes'  conversation/     I  knew  what 


396  THE   DIAEY   OF 

was  coming — application  for  shares — put  him  down  on  my  private 
list.  Wouldn't  mind  the  Scrag  End  Junction  passing  through  Bare- 
acres — hoped  I'd  come  down  an(,l  shoot  there. 

"  I  gave  the  old  humbugg  a  few  shares  out  of  my  own  pocket. 
'  There,  old  Pride/  says  I,  '  I  like  to  see  you  down  on  your  knees  to 
a  footman.  There,  old  Pompossaty  !  Take  fifty  pound ;  I  like  to ' 
see  you  come  cringing  and  begging  for  it.'  Whenever  I  see  him  in 
a  very  public  place,  I  take  my  change  for  my  money.  I  digg  him 
in  the  ribbs,  or  slap  his  padded  old  shoulders.  I  call  Mm,  '  Bare- 
acres,  my  old  buck  1 '  and  I  see  him  wince.     It  does  my  tirt  good. 

"  I'm  in  low  sperits.  A  disagreeable  insadent  has  just  occurred. 
Lady  Pump,  the  banker's  wife,  asked  me  to  dinner.  I  sat  on  her 
right,  of  course,  with  an  unconuuon  gul  ner  me,  Avith  whom  I  was 
getting  on  in  my  fassanating  way^fuU  of  lacy  ally  (as  the  Mairiuis 
says)  and  easy  plesntry.  Old  Pump,  from  the  end  of  the  table,  asked 
me  to  drink  shampane  ;  and  on  turning  to  tak  the  glass  I  saw  Chai'les 
Wackles  (with  womb  I'd  been  implored  at  Colonel  Spurriei"'s  house) 
grinning  over  his  shoulder  at  the  butler. 

" The  beest  reckonised  me.  Hixs  I  A\as  jiutting  on  my  palto  in 
the  hall,  he  came  up  again :  '  Hoio  dtj  doo^  Jeames  ? '  says  he,  in  a 
findish  visfier.  'Just  come  out  here,  Chawles,'  says  I,  '  I've  a  Avord 
for  you,  my  old  "boy.'  So  I  beckoned  him  into  Portland  Place,  with 
my  pus  in  my  hand,  as  if  I  was  going  to  give  him  a  sovaring. 

" '  I  think  you  said  "  Jeames,"  Chawle.s,'  says  I,  '  and  grind  at 
me  at  diimer  ] ' 

"  '  Why,  sir,'  says  he,  '  we're  old  friends,  j'ou  know.' 

"'Take  that  for  old  friendship  then,'  says  I,  and  I  gave  him 
just  one  on  the  uoas,  which  sent  hint  down  on  the  pavemint  as  if 
he'd  been  shot.  And  mounting  myjesticly  into  my  cabb,  I  left  the 
rest  of  the  giinning  scouudrills  to  pick  him  up,  &  droav  to  the  Clubb." 


"  Have  this  day  kimpleated  a  little  efair  vrith  my  friend  Ge<ipge, 
Earl  Bareacres,  Avhich  I  trust  will  Ix?  to  the  udvanti(lge  both  of  self 
&  that  noble  gent.  Atljiniug  the  Bareacre  propjuity  is.  a  small  piece 
of  land  of  about  100  acres,  called  Squallop  Hill,  igsealing  advanta- 
geous for  the  cultiv.ition  of  sheep,  which  have  been  found  to  have  a 
pickewlear  fine  flaviour  from,  the  natur  of  the  gnuss,  tyme,  heather, 
and  other  hodarefarus;  phuits  which  grows;  on  that  mounting  in  the 
places  where  the  rox  and  stones  don't  prevent  them.  Thistles  here 
s  also  remarkable  fine,  and  the  land  is  also  devided  hotf  by  liixurient 
Stone  Hedges — much  more  usefle  and  ickonomicle  than  your  quickset 
or  any  of  that  rubbishing  sort  of  timber :  iadeed  the  sile  is  of  ihax. 


C.  JEAMES    DE    LA    PLUCHE  397 

fine  iiatiu",  tliat  timber  refuses  to  grow  there  altogether.  I  gave 
Bareacres  £50  an  acre  for  this  land  (the  igsact  premium  of  my  St. 
Helena  Shares) — a  very  handsom  price  for  land  which  never  yielded 
two  shillings  an  acre  ;  and  very  convenient  to  his  Lordship  I  know, 
who  had  a  bill  coming  due  at  his  Bankers  which  he  had  given  them. 
James  de  la  Pluche,  Esquire,  is  thus  for  the  fust  time  a  landed  pro- 
priator — or  rayther,  I  should  say,  is  about  to  reshume  the  rank  & 
dignity  in  the  country  which  his  Hancestors  so  long  occupied." 

"I  have  caused  one  of  our  inginears  to  make  me  a  plann  of  the 
Squallop  Estate,  Diddlesexshire,  the  property  of  &c.  &c.,  bordered 
on  the  North  by  Lord  Bareacres's  Country ;  on  the  West  by  Sir 
Grauby  Growler ;  on  the  South  by  the  Hotion.  An  Arkytect  & 
Survare,  a  young  feller  of  gi-eat  emagination,  Avomlj  we  have 
employed  to  make  a  survey  of  the  Great  Caffrarian  line,  has  built 
me  a  beautiful  Villar  (on  paper),  Plushton  Hall,  Diddlesex,  the 
seat  of  I.  de  la  P.,  Esquire.  The  house  is  reprasented  a  handsome 
Itallian  Structer,  imbusmd  in  woods,  and  circumwented  by  beautiful 
gardings.  Theres  a  lake  in  front  with  boatsful  of  nobillaty  and 
musitions  floting  on  its  placid  sufface — and  a  curricle  is  a  driving 
up  to  the  grand  hentrance,  and  me  in  it,  with  Mrs.,  or  perhai)s 
Lady  Hangelana  de  la  Pluche.  I  speak  adwisedly.  I  may  be 
going  to  form  a  noble  kinexion.  I  may  be  (by  marridge)  going  to 
unigiit  my  family  once  more  with  Harrystoxy,  from  which  misfortn 
has  for  some  sentries  separated  us.     I  liave  dreams  of  that  sort. 

"  I've  sean  sevral  times  in  a  dalitifle  vishn  a  sey-ting  Erl, 
standing  in  a  hattitude  of  bennydiction,  and  rattafying  my  union 
with  a  serting  butifle  young  lady,  his  daughter.  Phansy  Mr.  or 
Sir  Jeames  and  Lady  Hangelina  de  la  Pluche  !  Ho  !  what  will 
the  old  washywoman,  my  grandmother,  say?  She  may  sell  her 
mangle  then,  and  shall  too  by  my  honour  as  a  Gent." 


"  As  for  Squallop  Hill,  its  not  to  be  emadgind  that  I  was  going 
to  give  5000  lb.  for  a  bleak  mounting  like  that,  unless  I  had  some 
ideer  in  vew.  Ham  I  not  a  Director  of  the  Grand  Diddlesex? 
Don't  Squallop  lie  amediately  betwigst  Old  Bone  House,  Single 
Gloster,  and  Scrag  End,  through  which  cities  our  line  passes?  I 
will  have  400,000  lb.  for  that  mounting,  or  my  name  is  not  Jeames. 
I  have  arranged  a  little  barging  too  for  my  friend  the  Erl.  The 
line  will  pass  through  a  hangle  of  Bareacre  Park.  He  shall  have  a 
good  compensation  I  promis  you  ;  and  then  I  shall  get  back  th(>  -"^000 
T  lent  him.     His  banker's  account,  I  fear,  is  in  a  horrid  state." 


398  THE    DIARY   OF 

[The  Diary  now  for  several  days  contains  particulars  of  no 
interest  to  the  public : — Memoranda  of  City  dinners^ 
meetings  of  Directors — fashionable  ]iarties  mi  which  Mr. 
Jeames  figures,  and  nearly  always  by  the  side  of  his  new 
friend,  Lord  Bareacres,  whose  "  pompossaty,"  as  previously 
described,  seems  to  have  almost  entirely  subsided.] 

We  then  come  to  the  following : — 

"With  a  prowd  and  thankfle  Art,  I  copy  off  this  morning's 
Gyzett  the  folloing  news  : — 

"  *  Commission  signed  by  the  Lord  Lieutenant  of  the  County  of 

Diddlesex. 
"'James  Augustus  de  la  Pluche,  Esquire,  to  be  Deputy 

Lieutenant.' " 

"  '  North  Diddlesex  Regimen*^^  of  Yeomanry  Cavalr\'. 
"  *  James  Augustus  de  la  Pluche,  Esquire,  to  be  Captain,  vice 
Blowhard,  promoted.' " 

"  And  his  it  so?  Ham  I  indeed  a  landed  propriator — a  Deppaty 
Leftnant — a  Capting?  May  I  hatend  the  Cort  of  my  Sovriug  ?  and 
dror  a  sayber  in  my  countr>''s  defensi  I  wish  the  French  xvood 
land,  and  me  at  the  head  of  my  squadring  on  my  boss  Desparation. 
How  I'd  extonish  'em  !  How  the  gals  will  stare  when  they  see 
me  in  youniform  !  How  Mary  Hann  would — but  nDUsince !  I'm 
halways  thinking  of  that  pore  gal.  She's  left  Sir  John's.  She 
couldn't  abear  to  stay  after  I  wont,  I've  heerd  say.  I  hope  she's 
got  a  good  place.  Any  summ  of  money  that  would  sett  her  up  in 
bisniss,  or 'make  her  comfarable,  I'd  come  down  with  like  a  mann. 
I  told  my  granmother  so,  who  sees  her,  and  rode  down  to  Healing, 
on  poi'i)ose  on  Des]iaration  to  leave  a  five  lb  noat  in  an  ant^ylope. 
But  she's  sent  it  back,  sealed  with  a  thimbill." 


"Tuesday. — Reseavd   the  following  letter  from   Lord  B ,■ 

rellatiff  to  my  presntation  at  Cort  and  the  Youniform  I  shall  wciir 
on  that  hospicious  seramony  : — 

" '  My  dear  De  la  Pluche, — I  think  you  had  better  be  pre- 
sented as  a  Deputy  Lieutenant.  As  for  the  Diddlesex  Yeomanry, 
I  hardly  know  what  the  uniform  is  now.  The  last  time  we  were 
out  was  in  1803,  when  the  Prince  of  Wales  reviewed  us,  and  when 


C.   JEAMES    DE    LA    PLUCHE  399 

we  wore  French  grey  jaekets,  leathers,  red  morocco  boots,  crimson 
peHsses,  brass  hehnets  with  leopard-skin  and  a  white  plume,  and 
the  regulation  pig-tail  of  eigliteen  inches.  That  dress  will  hardly 
answer  at  present,  and  nuist  be  modified,  of  course.  We  were  called 
.the  White  Feathers,  in  those  days.  For  my  part,  I  decidedly  re- 
commend the  Deputy  Lieutenant. 

"  '  I  shall  be  happy  to  present  you  at  the  Lev^e  and  at  the 
Drawing-room.  Lady  Bareacres  will  be  in  town  for  the  13th,  with 
Angelina,  wh<^  will  be  presented  on  that  day.  Idy  wife  has  heard 
much  of  you,  and  is  anxious  to  make  your  acquaintance. 

"  '  All  my  people  are  ha'/kward  with  their  rents :  for  Heaven's 
sake,  my  de;ir  fellow,  lend  1:10  five  hundred  and  oblige  yours,  very 
gratefully,  "  '  Bareacres.' 

'' Xote. — Bareacres  may  press  me  about  the  Depity  Leftnant ; 
but  /V/i  for  the  cavvlerv." 


"  Jewly  will  always  be  a  sacrid  anniwussary  witla  me.  It  was 
in  that  month  that  I  became  persnally  ecquaintid  witli  my  Prins 
and  my  gracious  So^'arink. 

"  Long  before  the  hospitious  event  acurd,  you  may  imadgin  that 
my  busm  was  in  no  triffling  flutter.  Sleaplis  of  niglits,  I  jiast  them 
thinking  of  the  great  ewent — nr  if  igsosted  natur  did  clothes  my 
highlids — the  eyedear  of  my  waking  thoughts  pevaded  my  slunnners. 
Corts,  Erls,  presntations,  Goldstix,  gracious  Sovarinx  mcngling  in 
my  dreembs  uuceasnly.  I  blush  to  say  it  (for  humin  prisumpshn 
never  surely  igseeded  that  of  my  Avickcd  Avickid  vishn),  one  night  I 
actially  tiremt  that  Her  R.  H.  the  Princess  Hallis  was  grown  u]t, 
and  that  there  was  a  Cabinit  Counsel  to  detummin  whether  her  & 
was  to  be  bestoad  on  me  or  tlie  Prins  of  Sax-Mutfinhausen-Pumpen- 
stein,  a  young  Prooshn  or  Gernung  zion  of  nobillaty.  I  ask  umly 
parding  for  this  liordacious  ideer. 

"  I  said,  in  my  fommer  remarx,  that  I  had  detummined  to  lie 
presented  to  the  notus  of  my  reveared  Sovaring  in  a  melintary 
coschewm.  The  Court-shoots  in  which  Sivillians  attend  a  Levy  are 
so  uncomming  like  tlie — the — hvries  (ojous  wud !  I  8  to  jnit  it 
down)  I  used  to  wear  before  entering  sosiaty,  that  I  couldn't  abide 
the  notium  of  wearing  one.  My  detummination  was  fumly  fixt  to 
apeer  as  a  Yominry  Cavilry  Hotfiser,  in  the  galleant  youniform  of 
the  North  Diddlesex  Huzzas. 

"  Has-  that  redgmint  had  not  been  out  sins  1803,  I  thought 
myself  quite  hotherized  to  make  sr.ch  halteratioiis  in  the  youniform 
7 


400  THE    DIARY    OF 

as  shuited  the  presnt  time  and  my  metured  and  elygint  taste. 
Pig-tales  was  out  of  the  question.  Tites  I  wa.s  detummined  to 
mintain.  My  legg  is  praps  the  finist  pint  about  me,  and  I  was 
risolved  not  to  hide  it  under  a  booshle. 

"I  phixt  on  scarUt  tites,  then,  imbridered  with  goold,  as  I 
hare  seen  Widdicomb  wear  them  at  Hashleys  when  me  and  Mary 
Hann  used  to  go  there.  Ninety-six  guineas  worth  of  rich  gooUi 
lace  and  cord  did  I  have  myhandering  hall  hover  those  shoperb 
inagspressables. 

"  Yellow  marocky  Heshn  boots,  red  eels,  goold  spiire  and  goold 
tassles  as  bigg  as  belpulls. 

"  Jackit — French  gray  and  silver  oriuire  fasings  &  cuplis,  accord- 
ing to  the  old  patn  ;  belt,  green  and  goold,  tight  round  my  i)usn,  &: 
settin  hoff  tlie  cemetry  of  my  figgar  not  dis>idrititajusli/. 

"  A  huzza  paleese  of  pupple  velvit  &  sable  fir.  A  sayber  of 
Dema><kus  steal,  and  a  salicrta.«:li  (in  which  I  kcp  my  Odidone  and 
imbridered  pocket  aukercher),  kimplcat  my  acootcniionts,  which, 
without  vannaty,  was,  I  flatter  m>self,  nneak: 

"  But  the  crownding  triumph  w;\s  my  hat.  I  coiddnt  wear  a 
cock  At.  The  huzzahs  dont  use  'em.  I  wouldnt  wear  the  Imjous 
old  brass  Elmet  &  Leppardskin.  I  choas  a  hat  wliich  is  tlear  t<i 
the  memry  of  hevery  Brittn ;  an  at  which  was  inwental  by  my 
Feelil  Marshle  and  adord  Prins  ;  an  At  which  vul<f'tr  /n-ejiili.*  <('• 
Joakimj  has  in  vane  etempted  to  run  duwn.  I  chose  the  H.xlbekt 
At.  I  didn't  tell  Bareacres  of  this  egsabishn  of  loilty,  intending  to 
surprise  him.  The  white  ploora  of  the  West  Diildhsex  Yoming»-y 
I  fixt  on  the  topp  of  this  Shacko,  where  it  spread  hunt  like  'i 
shaving-brush. 

"You  may  be  sure  that  befor  the  fiitle  day  arrived,  I  ilidnt 
niglect  to  practus  my  part  well;  and  had  .^evral  nhustles,  as 
they  say. 

"  This  was  the  way.  I  used  to  dress  myself  in  my  full  togs. 
I  made  Fitzwarren,  my  boddy  ser^'ant,  stand  at  the  dor,  and  figger 
as  tlie  Lord  in  Waiting.  I  put  ^Irs.  Blnker,  my  huuidres.-*,  in  my 
grand  harm  chair  to  reprasent  the  horgust  inisn  of  my  Sovriiig  ; 
Frederick,  my  secknd  man,  standing  on  her  left,  in  tlie  liattjitude 
of  an  illustrus  Prins  Consort.  Hall  the  Candles  were  lightcil. 
'  Captain  cle  la  Pluche,  presented  hti  Ilerl  Bareacres,'  Fitzwarn-ii, 
my  man,  igsdaimed,  as  adwancing  I  matle  ol)asins  to  the  Thrown. 
Nealin  on  one  nee,  I  cast  a  glans  of  unhuttaral)le  loilty  towards  the 
British  Crownd,  then  stepping  gracefully  Imp  (my  Diinascus  Simiter 
loould  git  betwigst  my  ligs,  in  so  doink,  whirji  at  fust  wsls  wcry 
disagreeble) — rising  hup  grasefly,  I  say,  I  flung  a  hx)k  of  manly 
but  respeckfl  hommitch  tords  my  Prins,  and  then  ellygntly  ritreated 


C.   JEAMES    I)E    LA    PLUCHE  401 

backards  out  of  the  Roil  Presents.  I  kep  my  4  suvnts  hup  for  4 
hours  at  this  gaym  the  niglit  before  my  presutation,  and  yet  I 
■was  the  fust  to  be  hup  with  the  sunrice.  I  coodnt  sleep  that 
night.  By  abowt  six  o'clock  in  the  morning,  I  was  drest  in 
my  full  uniform ;  and  I  didnt  know  how  to  pass  the  interveaning 
hours. 

"'My  Granmother  hasnt  seen  me  in  full  phigg,'  says  I.  'It 
will  rejoice  that  ])ore  old  sole  to  behold  one  of  her  race  so  suxesfle 
in  life.  Has  I  ave  read  in  the  novle  of  "  Kennleworth,"  that  the 
Herl  goes  down  in  Cort  dress  and  extoneshes  Hamy  Rohsart,  I  will 
go  down  in  all  my  splender  and  astownd  my  old  washywonian  of  a 
Granmother.'  To  make  this  detummination  ;  to  border  my  Broom  ; 
to  knock  down  Frederick  the  groomb  for  delaying  to  bring  it ;  was 
with  me  tlic  wuck  of  a  momint.  The  next  sor  as  galliant  a  cavyleer 
as  hever  rode  in  a  cabl»,  skowering  the  road  to  Healing. 

"  I  arrived  at  the  well-known  cottich.  My  huncle  was  habsent 
with  the  cart :  but  the  dor  of  the  humble  eboad  stood  hopen,  and  I 
])assed  through  the  little  garding  where  the  close  was  hanging  out 
to  dry.  My  snowy  {)l(jom  was  ableeged  to  bend  under  the  lowly 
porch,  as  I  hentered  the  apartmiut. 

"  There  was  a  smell  of  tea  there — there's  always  a  smell  of 
tea  there — the  old  lady  was  at  her  Bohee  as  usual.  I  advanced 
tords  her ;  but  ha !  ])hansy  my  extonishment  when  I  sor  Mary 
Hann  ! 

"  I  halmost  f  lintid  with  himotion.  '  Ho,  Jeames  ! '  (she  has  said 
to  me  subsquiutly)  '  mortial  mann  never  looked  so  bewtiiie  as  you 
did  wdien  you  arrived  on  tlie  day  of  the  Levy.  You  were  no  longer 
mortial,  you  were  diwine. 

"  R !  what  little  Justas  the  Hartist  has  done  to  my  mannly 
etractions  in  the  grocc  carriketure  he's  made  of  me." 

•  ••••'• 

"Nothing,  ])erhaps,  ever  created  so  great  a  sensashun  as  my 
hentrance  to  St.  Jcames's,  on  the  day  of  the  Levy.  The  Tuckish 
Hambasdor  himself  was  not  so  nmch  remarked  as  my  shuperb  turn 
out. 

'•'As  a  MillcTitary  man,  and  a  North  Diddlesex  Huzza,  I  was 
resolved  to  conie  to  the  ground  on  hossback.  I  had  Dcsparation 
phigd  out  as  a  charger,  and  got  4  Melentery  dresses  from  Ollywell 
Street,  in  w^hic^h  I  Vlrest  my  2  men  (Fitzwarren,  hout  of  livry, 
woodnt  stand  it)  and  2  fellers  from  Rimles,  where  my  bosses  stand 
at  livry,  I  rode  up  St.  Joannes's  Street,  wath  my  4  Hady- 
congs— the  people  huzzaying— the  gals  waving  their  handkerchers, 
as  if  I  were  a  Foring  Prins— liall  the  winders  crowdid  to  see  me 
pass. 


402  THE    DIARY    OF 

'■  Tlie  guard  must  have  taken  me  for  a  Hempror  at  least,  when  I 
came,  for  the  drums  beat,  and  the  guard  turned  out  and  sehited  me 
with  j)resented  harms. 

"  What  a  momink  of  triumth  it  was  !  I  sprung  myjestickly 
from  Desperation.  I  gav  the  rains  to  one  of  my  horderhes,  and, 
salewting  the  crowd,  I  past  into  the  presnts  of  my  Most  Gracious 
Mrs. 

"You,  jieraps,  may  igspect  tliat  I  should  narrait  at  lonth  the 
suckmstanzas  of  my  hawjince  with  the  British  Crown.  But  I  am 
not  one  who  would  gratafy  imjnitfnint  curaiosatij.  Risjieet  for 
our  reckonized  instatewtions  is  my  fust  quallaty.  I,  for  one,  will  dye 
rallying  round  my  Thrown. 

"  Suffise  it  to  say,  when  I  stood  in  the  Horgust  Presnts, — when 
I  sor  on  the  right  &  of  my  Himpcrial  Soviing  that  Most  Gracious 
Prills,  to  admire  womb  has  been  the  chief  Objick  of  my  life,  my 
busum  was  seased  witli  an  imotium  which  my  Ponn  rifewses  to  dix- 
cribe — my  trembling  knees  halmost  rifused  their  hottis — I  reckleck 
nothing  mor  until  I  was  found  phainting  in  the  harms  of  the  Lord 
Chamberling.  Sir  Robert  Peal  apnd  to  be  standing  h\  (I  knew  our 
wuthy  Primmier  by  Punch's  picturs  of  liim,  igspccially  his  ligs),  and 
he  was  conwussing  with  a  man  of  womb  I  shall  say  nothink,  but  that 
he  is  a  Hero  of  100  fites,  aiid  heyery  file  he  fit  he  one.  Nead  I  say 
that  I  elude  to  Harthur  of  Wellingting?  I  introjuiced  myself  to 
these  Jents,  and  intend  to  improve  the  equaintance,  and  pcraps  ast 
Guvmint  for  a  Barnetcy. 

"  But  there  was  another  pusn  womb  on  this  droring-room  I  fust 
had  the  inagspressable  dalite  to  beold.  This  was  that  Star  of  fashing, 
that  Sinecure  of  ncighhouring  i's,  as  Milting  observes,  the  ecomj)lisht 
Lady  Hangelina  Thistlewood,  daughter  of  my  exlent  frend,  John 
George  Godfrey  de  Bullion  Thistlewood,  Earl  of  Bareacres,  Baron 
Southdown,  in  the  Peeridge  of  the  United  Kingdom,  Baron  Haggis- 
mor3,  in  Scotland,  K.T.,  Lord  Leftnant  of  the  County  of  Diddlesex, 
&c.  &c.  This  young  lady  was  with  her  Noble  Ma,  wluii  I  was 
kinducted  tords  her.  And  surely  never  lighted  on  this  hearth  a 
more  delightHe  vislm.  lu  that  gallixy  of  Bewty  the  Lady  Han- 
gelina was  the  fairest  Star — in  that  reath  of  Loveliness  the  sweetest 
Rosebud  !  Pore  Mary  Hann,  my  Art's  young  affeckshns  had  been 
senterd  on  thee ;  but  like  water  through  a  sivv,  her  immidge  dis- 
apeared  in  a  momink,  and  left  me  intransd  in  the  presnts  of 
Hangelina. 

"Lady  Bareacres  made  me  a  myjcstick  bow — a  grand  and 
hawflle  pusnage  her  Ladyship  is,  with  a  Roming  Nose,  and  an 
enawmus  jiloom  of  Hostridge  phethers;  the  fare  Hangelina  smiled 
with  a  sweetness  perfickly  bewhildring,  and  said,   '  0,  Mr.  De  la 


C.   JEAMES    DE    LA    PLUCHE  403 

Pluche,  I'm  so  delighted  to  make  your  acquaintance.  I  have  often 
heard  of  you.' 

" '  Who,'  says  I,  '  has  mentioned  my  insiggnificknt  igsistance  to 
the  fair  Lady  HangeUua,  l  kel  bomire  i(istrame  jmor  mwaiu  !  '  (Foi 
you  see  I've  not  studdied  '  Pelham '  for  nothink,  and  have  hmt  a 
few  French  phraces,  without  which  no  Gent  of  Tashn  speaks 
now.) 

"  '  0/  replies  my  Lady,  '  it  was  papa  first ;  and  then  a  very 
veri/  old  friend  of  yours.' 

"  '  Whose  name  is,'  says  I,  pusht  on  by  my  stoopid  curaw.«aty 

'"Hoggins — Mary  Ann  Hoggins' — ansurred  my  Lady  (laffing 
phit  to  splitt  her  little  sides).  '  She  is  my  maid,  Mr.  De  la  Pluche, 
and  I'm  afraid  you  are  a  very  sad  sad  person.' 

"  '  A  mere  baggytell,'  says  I.  '  In  fommer  days  I  icas  equainted 
with  that  young  woman  :  but  haltered  suckmstancies  have  sep- 
parated  us  for  hever,  and  viong  cure  is  irratrcevably  j^erdew  else- 
where.' 

"  '  Do  tell  me  all  about  it.  Who  is  it  ?  When  was  it  ?  We 
are  all  dying  to  know.' 

"  '  Since  about  two  minnits,  and  the  Ladys  name  begins  with  a 
Ha,'  says  I,  looking  her  tendarly  in  the  face,  and  conjring  up  hall 
the  fixssanations  of  my  smile. 

"'Mr.  De  la  Pluche,'  here  said  a  gentleman  in  whiskers  and 
mistaches  standing  by,  '  hadn't  you  better  take  your  spurs  out  ot 
the  Countess  of  Bareacres's  train'?' — 'Never  mind  mamma's  train' 
(said  Lady  Hangelina)  :  '  this  is  the  great  Mr.  De  la  Pluclie,  who  is 
to  make  all  our  fortunes — yours  too.  Mr.  De  la  Pluche,  let  me 
present  you  to  Captain  George  Silvcrtop.' — The  Capting  bent  just 
one  jint  of  his  back  very  slitely  ;  I  retund  his  stare  with  equill 
hottiness.  '  Go  and  see  for  Lady  Bareacres's  carridge,  George,'  says 
his  Lordship  ;  and  vispers  to  me,  '  a  cousin  of  ours — a  poor  relation.' 
So  I  took  no  notis  of  the  feller  when  he  came  back,  nor  in  my 
subsquint  visits  to  Hill  Street,  where  it  seems  a  knife  and  fork 
was  laid  reglar  for  this  shabby  Capting." 


"Thusday  Xighf. — 0  Hangelina,  Hangelina,  my  pashn  for 
you  hogments  daily  !  I've  bean  with  her  to  the  Hopra.  I  sent  her 
a  bewtifle  Camellia  Jyponiky  from  Covn  Carding,  with  a  re(iuest 
she  would  wear  it  in  her  raving  Air.  I  woar  another  in  my  butnole. 
Evns,  what  was  my  sattusfackshn  as  I  leant  hover  her  chair,  and 
igsammined  the  house  with  my  glas  ! 

"She  was  as  sulky  and  silent  as  pawsble,   however — would 


404  THE    DIARY   OF 

scarcely  speek;  although  I  kijoled  her  with  a  thowsnd  little 
plesntries.  I  spose  it  was  because  that  wulgar  raskle  Silvertop  ivood 
stay  in  the  box.  As  if  he  didn't  know  (Lady  B.'s  as  deaf  as  a  poast 
and  counts  for  nothink)  that  people  sometimes  like  a  tatytaty." 


"Friday. — I  was  sleeples  all  night.  I  gave  went  to  my 
feelings  in  the  folloring  lines^there's  a  hair  out  of  Balfe's  Hopera 
that  she's  fond  of     I  edapted  them  to  that  mellady. 

"  She  was  in  the  droring-rooni  alone  with  Lady  B.  She  was 
wobbling  at  the  pyanna  as  I  hentered.  I  flung  the  convasation 
upon  mewsick ;  said  I  sung  myself  (I've  ad  lesns  lately  of  Signor 
Twankydillo) ;  and,  on  her  rekwesting  me  to  faver  her  with  some- 
think,  I  bust  out  with  my  pom  : 

•' '  WHEN  MOONLIKE  OER  THE  HAZURE  SEAS. 

"  '  When  moonlike  ore  the  hazure  seas 

In  soft  effulgence  swells, 
When  silver  jews  and  balmy  breaze 

Bend  down  the  Lily's  bells  ; 
When  calm  and  deap,  the  rosy  sleap 

Has  lapt  your  soal  in  dreems, 
R  Hangeline  !  R  lady  mine  ! 

Dost  thou  remember  Jeames  ? 

I  mark  thee  in  the  Marble  All, 

Where  Englands  loveliest  shine- 
I  say  the  fairest  of  them  hall 

Is  Lady  Hangeline. 
My  soul,  in  desolate  eclipse, 

With  recollection  teems — 
And  then  I  hask,  with  weeping  lips, 

Dost  thou  remember  Jeames  ? 

Away  !  I  may  not  tell  thee  hall 

This  soughring  heart  endures 
There  is  a  lonely  sperrit-call 

That  Sorrow  never  cures  ; 
There  is  a  little  little  t-tar, 

That  still  above  me  beams  ; 
It  is  the  Star  of  Hope — but  ar  ! 

Dost  thou  remember  Jeames  ? ' 

"When  I  came  to  the  last  words,  "Dost  thou  remember 
Je-e-e-ams  ? '  I  threw  such  an  igspresshn  of  unuttrable  tenderuiss 
into  the  shake  at  the  hend,  that  Hangelina  could  bare  it  no  more. 


•  C.   JEAMES    DE    LA    TLUCHE  405 

A  bust  of  imcumtrollable  emotium  seized  lier.  She  put  her  anker- 
cher  to  her  face  aud  left  the  room,  I  lieard  her  latiing  and  sobbing 
histerickly  in  the  bedwor. 

"  0  Hangelina^My  adored  one,  My  Arts  joy  !  "  .  .  . 


"  Bareacres,  me,  the  ladies  of  the  fomly,  with  their  sweet 
Southdown,  B's  eldest  son,  and  George  Silvertoj),  the  shabby 
Capting  (who  seems  to  git  leaf  from  his  ridgmint  whenhever  he 
likes),  have  beene  down  into  Diddlesex  for  a  few  days,  enjying  the 
spawts  of  the  feald  there. 

"  Never  having  done  much  in  the  gunning  line  (since  when  a 
hinnasent  boy,  me  and  Jim  Cox  used  to  go  out  at  Healing,  and 
fdioot  sparrers  in  the  Edges  with  a  pistle) — I  was  reyther  dowtfle  as 
to  my  suxes  as  a  shot,  and  practusd  for  some  days  at  a  stoughd 
bird  in  a  shooting  gallery,  which  a  clia])  histed  uj}  and  down  with  a 
string.  I  sugseaded  in  itting  the  hanninile  jiretty  well.  I  Itought 
Awker's  'Shooting-Guide,'  two  double  guns  at  Mantings,  and  salected 
from  the  French  prints  of  fashn  the  most  gawjus  and  ellygant 
sporttiug  ebillyment.  A  lite  blue  velvet  and  goold  cap,  wear  very 
much  on  one  hear,  a  cravatt  of  yallcr  &  gi-een  imbroidcred  patting, 
a  weskit  of  the  McGrigger  plaid,  &  a  jacket  of  the  McWhirter  tarlii 
(with  large  motherapurl  butns,  engraved  A\ith  coaches  &  osses.  and 
sporting  subjix),  high  leather  gayters,  and  niarocky  shooting  shoes, 
was  the  simple  hellymence  of  my  costewm,  and  I  flatter  myself 
set  hoft'  my  figger  in  rayther  a  fayverable  way.  I  tot)k  down  none 
of  my  own  pusnal  istablishmint  except  Fitzwarren,  my  hone  mann, 
and  my  grooms,  with  Desparation  and  my  curricle  osses,  and  the 
Fom'gong  containing  my  dressing-case  and  close. 

"  I  was  heverywhere  introjuiced  in  the  county  as  the  great  Rail- 
road Capi:)itlist,  who  was  to  make  Diddlesex  the  most  prawsperous 
districk  of  the  hempire.  The  squires  })rest  forrards  to  welcome 
the  new  comer  amongst  'em ;  and  we  had  a  Hagricultural  Meating 
of  the  Bareacres  tenantry,  where  I  made  a  speech  droring  tears  from 
heavery  i.  It  was  in  compliment  to  a  layborer  who  had  brought 
up  sixteen  children,  and  lived  sixty  years  on  the  istate  on  seven 
bobb  a  week.  I  am  not  prowd,  though  I  know  my  station.  I 
shook  hands  with  that  mann  in  lavinder  kidd  gloves.  I  told 
him  that  the  purshuit  of  hagriculture  was  the  noblist  hockujia- 
tions  of  humannaty :  I  spoke  of  the  yoming  of  Hengland,  who 
(under  the  command  of  my  hancisters)  had  concpiered  at  Hadjin- 
court  &  Cressy ;  and  I  gave  him  a  ])air  of  new  velveteen  inagsjiress- 
ables,  with  two  and  six  in  each  pocket,  as  a  reward  for  tliree  score 


4o6  THE    DIARY   OF 

years  of  labor.  Fitzwarren,  my  man,  brought  them  forrards  on 
a  satting  cushing.  Has  I  sat  down  defning  chears  selewted  the 
horator;  the  band  struck  up  'The  Good  Old  English  Gentleman.' 
I  looked  to  the  ladies  galry  ;  my  Hangelina  waived  her  ankasher 
and  kissd  her  & ;  and  I  sor  in  the  distans  that  pore  Mary  Hann 
efected  evidently  to  tears  by  my  ellaquints." 


"  What  an  adwance  that  gal  has  made  since  she's  been  in  Lady 
Hangelina's  company  !  Sins  she  wears  her  yoimg  lady's  igsploded 
gownds  and  retired  caps  and  libbings,  there's  an  ellygance  abowt 
her  which  is  puffickly  admarable ;  and  which,  haddid  to  her  own 
natral  bewty  &  sweetuiss,  creates  in  my  boozum  serting  sensa- 
tiums  .  .  .  Shor !  I  vmistnH  give  way  to  fealinx  unwuthy  of  a 
member  of  the  aristoxy.  What  can  she  be  to  me  but  a  mear 
rccklection — a  vishn  of  former  ears  1 

"  I'm  blest  if  I  didn  mistake  her  for  Hangelina  herself  yesterday. 
I  met  her  in  tlie  grand  Collydore  of  Bareacres  Castle.  I  sor  a  lady  in 
a  melumcolly  Iiattatude  gacing  outawinder  at  tlie  setting  sun,  which 
was  eluminating  the  fair  parx  and  gardings  uf  the  hancient  demean. 

"  '  Bewchus  Lady  Hangelina,'  says  I — '  A  penny  for  your 
Ladyship's  thought,'  says  I. 

"  '  Ho,  Jeames  !  Ho,  Mr.  De  la  Pluche  ! '  hansered  a  well-known 
vice,  with  a  haxnt  of  sadnis  which  went  to  my  art.  *  You  know 
what  my  thoughts  are,  well  enough.  I  was  tliinking  of  happy 
hap}»y  old  times,  when  both  of  us  were  poo — jioo — oor,'  says  Mary 
Hann,  busting  out  in  a  phit  of  crying,  a  thing  I  can't  ebide.  I 
took  her  and  and  tried  to  cumft  her :  I  pinted  out  the  dittrents 
of  our  sitawashns  ;  igsplained  to  her  that  pro])i)aty  has  its  jewties  as 
well  as  its  previlet(;hes,  and  that  my  juty  clearly  was  to  marry  into 
a  noble  famly.  I  kep  on  talking  to  her  (she  sobbing  and  going 
hon  hall  the  time)  till  Lady  Hangelina  herself  came  up — '  The  real 
Siming  Fewer,'  as  they  say  in  the  play. 

"  There  they  stood  together — them  two  young  women.  I  don't 
know  which  is  the  ansamest.  I  coodn  help  comparing  them ;  and 
I  coo(hit  help  comparing  myself  to  a  certing  Hanninde  I've  read  of, 
that  found  it  ditticklt  to  make  a  choice  betwigst  -  Bundles  of  A." 


"  That  ungrateful  beest  Fitzwarren — my  oan  )nan — a  feller  I've 
maid  a  fortune  for — a  feller  I  give  100  lb.  ])er  hannum  to  !  —  a  low 
bred  Wallydyshaniber  !  He  must  be  thinking  of  falling  in  love 
too  !  and  treating  me  to  his  imperence. 


C.   JEAMES    DE    LA    PLUCHE  407 

"  He's  a  great  big  atlilatic  feller — six  foot  i,  with  a  pair  of 
black  whiskers  like  air-brushes — with  a  look  of  a  Colonel  in  the 
harmy — a  dangerous  pawmpus-spoken  raskle  I  warrant  you.  I  was 
coming  onie  from  shuiting  this  hafternoon — and  passing  through 
Lady  Hangelina's  liour-garding,  who  should  I  see  in  the  summer- 
ouse,  but  Mary  Hann  pretending  to  em  an  ankyshr  and  Mr,  Fitz- 
warren  paying  his  court  to  her? 

"  '  You  may  as  well  have  me,  Mary  Hann,'  says  he.  '  I've 
saved  money.  We'll  take  a  public-house  and  111  make  a  lady  of 
you.  Fm  not  a  ](urse-proud  ungTateful  fellow  like  Jeames — who's 
such  a  snob  ('such  a  sxobb  '  was  his  very  words!)  that  I'm 
ashamed  to  wait  on  him — who's  the  laughing  stock  of  all  the  gentry 
and  the  housekeeper's  room  too — try  a.  man,'  says  he — 'don't  be 
taking  on  about  such  a  huml)ug  as  Jeames.' 

"  Here  young  Joe  the  keaper's  sun,  who  was  carrying  my  bagg, 
bust  out  a  laffing — thereby  causing  Mr.  Fitzwarren  to  turn  round 
and  intarupt  this  polite  couvasation. 

"  I  was  in  such  a  rayge.  '  Quit  the  building,  Mary  Hann,'  says 
I  to  the  young  woman ;  "  and  you,  Mr.  Fitzwarren,  have  the  good- 
ness to  remain.' 

"  '  I  give  you  warning,'  roars  he,  looking  black,  blue,  yaller — all 
the  colours  of  the  ranebo. 

" '  Take  off  your  coat,  you  imjjerent  hungi-ateful  scouudrl,' 
says  I. 

"  '  It's  not  your  livery,'  says  he. 

" '  Peraps  you'll  understand  me,  when  I  take  off  my  own,' 
says  I,  unljuttoning  the  motherapurls  of  the  MacWhirter  tartn. 
'  Take  my  jackit,  Joe,'  says  I  to  the  boy, — and  i)ut  myself  in  a 
hattitude  about  which  there  was  no  mistayk." 

•  ••••• 

"  He's  2  stone  heavier  than  me — and  knows  the  use  of  his 
ands  as  well  as  most  men;  but  in  a  fite,  hloocVs  everythink ;  the 
Snobb  can't  stand  before  the  gentleman ;  and  I  should  have  killed 
him,  I've  little  doubt,  but  they  came  and  stopt  the  fite  betwigst  us 
before  Ve'd  had  more  than  2  rounds. 

"  I  punisht  the  raskle  tremenjusly  in  that  time,  though ;  and 
I'm  writing  this  in  my  own  sittn-room,  not  being  able  to  come 
down  to  dinner  on  account  of  a  black-eye  I've  got,  which  is  sweld 
up  and  disfiggrs  me  dreadfl." 


"On   account   of  the  hoffle   black  i  which   I   reseaved  in  my 
rangcounter  with  the  hinfinms   Fitzwarren,    I  kep   my  roomb  for 


4o8  THE    DIARY    OF 

sevral  days,  Avitli  the  rose-coloured  curtings  of  the  apartmint  closed, 
so  as  to  form  an  agreeable  twilike ;  and  a  light-bloo  sattin  shayd 
over  the  injard  pheacher.  My  woons  was  thus  made  to  become  me 
as  much  as  pawsable ;  and  (has  the  Poick  well  obserres  '  Nun  but 
the  Brayv  desuvs  the  Fare  ')  I  cumsoled  myself  in  the  sasiaty  of  the 
ladies  for  my  tempory  disfiggarment. 

"  It  was  Mary  Hann  who  summind  the  House  and  put  an  end 
to  ray  phistycoughs  with  Fitzwarren.  I  licked  him  and  bare  him 
no  mallis  :  but  of  corse  I  dismist  the  iuiperent  scoundrill  from  my 
suvvis,  apinting  Adolphus,  my  page,  to  his  i)ost  of  contidenshl'e 
Valley. 

"  Mary  Hann  and  her  young  and  lovely  Mrs.  kep  paying  me 
continyoul  visits  during  my  retiremint.  Lady  Hangelina  was  halways 
sending  me  messidges  by  her :  while  my  exlent  friend,  Lady  Bare- 
acres  (on  the  contry),  was  always  sending  me  toakns  of  affeckshn 
by  Hangelina.  Now  it  was  a  coolin  hi-lotium,  inwented  by  herself, 
that  her  Ladyship  woidd  perscribe — then,  agin,  it  would  be  a  booky 
of  flowers  (my  favrit  polly  hanthuses,  pellagoniums,  and  jyponikys), 
which  none  but  the  fair  &s  of  Hangelina  could  dispose  about  the 
chamber  of  the  hinvyleed.  Ho  !  those  dear  mothers  !  when  they 
wish  to  find  a  chans  for  a  galliant  young  feller,  or  to  ixtablish  their 
dear  gals  in  life,  what  awpertunities  they  ivill  give  a  man  !  You'd 
have  phansied  I  was  so  hill  (on  account  of  my  black  hi)  that  I 
couldnt  live  exsep  upon  chicking  and  spoon-meat,  and  jellies,  and 
blemonges,  and  that  I  couldnt  eat  the  latter  dellixies  (which  I 
ebomminate  onternoo,  prefurring  a  cut  of  beaf  or  nuittn  to  hall  the 
kickpshaws  of  France)  unless  Hangelina  brought  them.  I  et  'em, 
and  sacrafised  myself  for  her  dear  sayk. 

"I  may  stayt  here  that  in  privit  convasations  with  old  Lord 
B.  and  his  son,  I  had  mayd  my  proposals  for  Hangelina,  and  was 
axepted,  and  hoped  soon  to  be  made  the  appiest  gent  in  Hengland. 

" '  You  must  break  the  matter  gently  to  her,'  said  her  hexlant 
father.  '  You  have  my  warmest  wishes,  my  dear  Mr.  De  la  Pluche, 
and  those  of  my  Lady  Bareacres ;  but  I  am  not — not  quite  certain 
about  Lady  Angelina's  feelings.  Girls  are  wild  and  romantic. 
They  do  not  see  the  necessity  of  prudent  establishments,  and  I 
have  never  yet  been  able  to  make  Angelina  understand  the  embar- 
rassments of  her  family.  These  silly  creatures  prate  about  love 
and  a  cottage,  and  despise  advantages  which  wiser  heads  than 
theirs  know  how  to  estimate.' 

"  '  Do  you  mean  that  she  aint  fassanated  by  me  1 '  says  I,  biu-st- 
ing  out  at  this  outrayjus  ideer. 

"  '  She  will  be,  my  dear  sir.  You  have  already  iileased  her, 
— your  admirable  manners  must  succeed  in  captivating  her,  and 


C.  JEAMES    DE    LA    PLUCHE  409 

a  fond  father's  wislies  will  be  crowned  on  the  day  in  which  you 
enter  our  family.' 

"  '  Recklect,  gents,'  says  I  to  the  2  lords, — '  a  barging's  a  barging 
— I'll  pay  lioff  Soutliddwn's  Jews,  when  I'm  his  brother.  As  a 
straynger' — (this  I  said  in  a  sarcastieklo  toan) — 'Iwouldnt  take 
such  a  lihhaty.  When  Y\\\  your  suniidor  I'll  trel)le  the  valyou  of 
your  estayt.  I'll  make  your  incumbrinces  as  right  as  a  trivit,  and 
restor  the  ouse  of  Bareacres  to  its  herly  splender.  But  a  j)ig  in 
a  poak  is  not  the  way  of  transacting  bisniss  imployed  by  Jcames 
De  la  Pluche,  Esquire.' 

"  And  I  had  a  right  to  si)eak  in  this  way.  I  was  one  of  the 
greatest  scrip-holders  in  Hengland ;  and  calclatcd  on  a  kilossle 
fortune.  All  my  shares  was  rising  inunence.  Every  jxiast  brot 
me  noose  that  I  was  sevral  thowsands  richer  than  the  day  befor. 
I  was  detummind  not  to  reerlize  till  the  proper  time,  and  then  to 
buy  istates ;  to  found  a  new  family  of  Delapluches,  and  to  alie 
myself  with  the  aristoxy  of  my  country. 

"  These  pints  I  reprasented  to  pore  Mary  Hann  hover  and  hover 
agin.  '  If  you'd  been  Lady  Hangelina,  my  dear  gal,'  says  I,  '  I 
would  have  married  you  :  and  why  don't  I  %  Because  my  dooty 
prewents  me.  I'm  a  marter  to  dooty ;  and  you,  my  pore  gal, 
must  cumsole  yorself  wdth  that  ideer.' 

"  There  seemed  to  be  a  consperracy,  too,  between  that  Silvertop 
and  Lady  Hangelina  to  drive  me  to  the  same  pint.  'What  a 
plucky  fellow  you  were,  Pluche,'  says  he  (he  was  rayther  more 
familliar  than  I  liked),  '  in  your  tight  with  Fitzwarren  ! — to  engage 
a  man  of  twice  your  strength  and  science,  though  you  were  sure 
to  be  beaten '  (this  is  an  etroashous  folsood :  I  should  have  finnisht 
Fitz  in  10  minuits),  'for  the  sake  of  pore  Mary  Hann  !  That's  a 
generous  fellow.  I  like  to  see  a  man  risen  to  eminence  like  you, 
having  his  heart  in  the  right  place.  When  is  to  be  the  marriage, 
my  boy  ? ' 

"  '  Capting  S.,'  says  I,  '  my  marridge  consunns  your  most  umble 
servnt  a  precious  sight  more  than  you ; ' — and  I  gev  him  to  under- 
stand I  didn't  want  him  to  put  in  hi&  ore — I  wasn't  afrayd  of  his 
whiskers,  I  prommis  you,  Capting  as  he  was.  I'm  a  British  Lion, 
I  am  :  as  brayv  as  Bonypert,  Haunil)le,  or  Holivcr  Crummle,  aiul 
would  face  bagnits  as  well  as  any  Evy  drigoon  of  'em  all. 

"Lady  Hangelina,  too,  igspawstulated  in  her  harttl  way.  'Mr. 
De  la  Pluche  (seshee),  why,  why  press  this  point?  You  can't 
sujipose  that  you  will  be  happy  with  a  person  like  me  ? ' 

"  '  I  adoar  you,  charming  gal ! '  says  I.  '  Never,  never  go  to 
say  any  such  thing.' 

'"You  adored  Mary  Ann  first,'  answers  her  Ladj-ship ;  'you 


4IO  THE    DIARY    OF 

can't  keep  your  eyes  off  her  now.  If  any  man  courts  her  you 
grow  so  jealous  that  you  begin  heating  him.  You  will  break  the 
girl's  heart  if  you  don't  marry  her,  and  perhaps  some  one  else's — 
but  you  don't  mind  that.^ 

"  *  Break  yours,  you  adoarible  creature  !  I'd  die  first !  And  as 
for  Mary  Hann,  she  will  git  over  it ;  people's  arts  ain't  broakn  so 
easy.  Once  for  all,  suckmstances  is  changed  betwigst  me  and  er. 
It's  a  pang  to  part  with  her '  (says  I,  my  fine  hi's  filling  with  tears), 
'  but  jwirt  from  her  I  must.' 

"  It  was  curius  to  remark  abowt  that  singlar  gal,  Lady 
Hangelina,  that  melumcolly  as  she  was  when  she  was  talking  to 
me,  and  ever  so  disml — yet  she  kep  on  laffing  every  minute  like  the 
juice  and  all. 

"  '  What  a  sacrifice  ! '  says  she ;  '  it's  like  Xapoleon  giving  up 
Josephine.     "What  anguish  it  must  cause  to  your  susceptible  heart ! ' 

"  '  It  does,'  says  I—'  Haguies  ! '     (Another  laff.) 

'"And  if— if  I  don't  accept  you — you  will  invade  the  States 
of  the  Emperor  my  papa,  and  I  am  to  be  made  the  sacrifice  and 
the  occasion  of  peace  between  you  I ' 

"  '  I  don't  know  what  you're  eluding  to  about  Joseyfeen  and 
Hemperors  your  Pas ;  but  I  know  that  your  Pa's  estate  is  over 
hedaneers  morgidged  ;  that  if  some  one  don't  elp  him,  he's  no  better 
than  an  old  pawper  ;  that  he  owes  me  a  lot  of  money ;  and  that  I'm 
the  man  that  can  sell  liim  up  boss  &  foot:  or  set  him  up  agen — 
that's  wliat  I  know.  Lady  Hangelina,'  says  I,  with  a  hair  as  much 
as  to  say,  *  Put  that  in  your  Ladyship's  pipe  and  smoke  it.' 

"And  so  I  left  her,  and  nex  day  a  serting  fashnable  paper 
enounced — 

"  '  Marriage  in  High  Life. — "We  hear  that  a  matrimonial 
union  is  on  the  tapia  between  a  gentleman  who  has  made  a  colossal 
fortune  in  the  Railway  "Worltl,  and  the  only  daughter  of  a  noble 
earl,  whose  estates  are  situated  in  D-ddles-x.  An  early  day  is 
fixed  for  this  interesting  event.' " 


"  Contry  to  my  expigtations  (but  when  or  ow  can  we  reckn 
upon  the  fealinx  of  wimming  ?)  Mai-y  Hann  ilidn't  seem  to  be  much 
efected  by  the  hideer  of  my  marridge  with  Hangelinar.  I  was 
rayther  disapinted  peraps  that  the  tickle  young  gal  reckumsiled 
herself  so  easy  to  give  me  hup,  for  we  Gents  are  creeeliei^  of 
vannaty  after  all,  as  well  as  those  of  the  hopsit  seeks  :  and  betwigst 
you  and  me  there  zvas  mominx    when  I  almost  whisht  that  I'd 


C.   JEAMES    DE    LA    PLUCHE  411 

been  borne  a  Myommidn  or  Turk,  wlieii  the  Lor  would  have  per- 
mitted me  to  marry  both  these  sweet  beiiix,  wherehas  I  was  now 
condemd  to  be  appy  with  ony  one. 

"  Meanwild  everythink  went  on  very  agreeable  betwigst  nie  and 
my  defianced  bride.  When  we  came  back  to  town  I  kemishnd  Mr. 
Showery  the  great  Hoctionear  to  look  out  for  a  town  manshing 
sootable  for  a  gent  of  my  quallaty.  I  got  from  the  Erald  Hoffis 
(not  the  Mavming  Erald — no  no,  I'm  not  such  a  Mough  as  to  go 
there  for  ackrit  infamation)  an  account  of  my  fandy,  my  harms 
and  })edigiy. 

"  I  bordered  in  Long  Hacre,  three  splendid  equipidges,  on  which 
my  arms  and  my  adored  wife's  was  drawn  &  quartered ;  and  I  got 
portricks  of  me  and  her  jjaynted  by  the  sellabrated  Mr.  Shalloon, 
being  resolved  to  be  the  gentleman  in  all  things,  and  knowing  that 
my  character  as  a  man  of  fashn  wasn't  eonipleat  unless  I  sat  to  that 
dixtinguished  Hartist.  My  likenis  I  presented  to  Hangelina.  It's 
not  considered  flattring — and  though  she  i)arted  with  it,  as  you  will 
hear,  mighty  willingly,  there's  one  young  lady  (a  thousand  times 
handsomer)  tliat  values  it  as  the  happle  of  her  hi. 

"Would  any  man  beleave  that  this  picture  was  soald  at  my 
sale  for  about  a  twenty-fifth  part  of  what  it  cost  me"?  It  was 
bought  in  by  Maryhann,  though  :  '  0  dear  Jeames,'  says  she,  often 
(kissing  of  it  &  pressing  it  to  her  art),  '  it  isn't  ^  ansum  enough 
for  you,  and  hasn't  got  your  angellick  smile  and  tlie  igspreshn  of 
your  dear  dear  i's.' 

"  Hangelina's  pictur  was  kindly  presented  to  me  by  Countess 
B.,  her  mamma,  though  of  coarse  I  paid  for  it.  It  was  engraved 
for  the  '  Book  of  Bewty '  the  same  year. 

"  With  such  a  perfusion  of  ringlits  I  should  scarcely  have  known 
her — but  the  ands,  feat,  and  i's,  was  very  like.  She  was  i)ainted 
in  a  gitar  supposed  to  be  singing  one  of  my  little  melladies  ;  and 
her  brother  Southdown,  who  is  one  of  the  New  England  poits,  wrote 
the  follering  stanzys  about  her  : — 

"LINES  UPON  MY  SISTERS  PORTRAIT. 
"by  the  lord  southdown. 

"  The  castle  towers  of  Bareacres  are  fair  upon  the  lea, 

Where  the  cliffs  of  bgnny  Diddlesex  rise  up  from  out  the  sea: 

I  stood  upon  the  donjon  keep  and  view'd  the  country  o'er, 

I  saw  the  lands  of  Bareacres  for  fifty  miles  or  more. 

I  stood  upon  the  donjon  keep— it  is  a  sacred  place, — 

Where  floated  for  eight  hundred  years  the  banner  of  my  race  ; 

Argent,  a  dexter  sinople,  and  gules  an  azure  field, 

'i  here  ne'er  was  nobler  co2:nisance  on  knightly  warrior's  shield. 


412  THE    DIARY    OF 

The  first  time  England  saw  the  shield  'twas  round  a  Norman  neck, 

On  board  a  ship  from  Valery,  King  William  was  on  deck. 

A  Norman  lance  the  colours  wore,  in  Hastings'  fatal  fray — 

St.  Willibald  for  Bareacres  !  'twas  double  gules  that  day  ! 

0  Heaven  and  sweet  St.  Willibald  !  in  many  a  battle  since 

A  loyal-hearted  Bareacres  has  ridden  by  his  Prince  ! 

At  Acre  with  Plantagenet,  with  Edward  at  Poitiers, 

The  pennon  of  the  Bareacres  was  foremost  on  the  spears  ! 

'Twas  pleasant  in  the  battle-shock  to  hear  our  war-cry  ringing : 
O  grant  me,  sweet  St.  Willibald,  to  listen  to  such  singing  ! 
Three  hundred  steel-clad  gentlemen,  we  drove  the  foe  before  us, 
And  thirty  score  of  British  bows  kept  twanging  to  the  chorus  ! 
0  knights,  my  noble  ancestors,  and  shall  I  never  hear 
Saint  Willibald  for  Bareacres  through  battle  ringing  clear? 
I'd  cut  me  off  this  strong  right  hand  a  single  hour  to  ride, 
And  strike  a  blow  for  Bareacres,  my  fathers,  at  your  side  ! 

Dash  down,  dash  down,  yon  Mandolin,  beloved  sister  mine  ! 
Those  blushing  lips  may  never  si.ig  the  glories  of  our  line : 
Our  ancient  castles  echo  to  the  clumsy  feet  of  churls, 
The  spinning  Jenny  houses  in  the  mansion  of  our  Earls. 
Sing  not,  sing  not,  my  Angeline  !  in  days  so  base  and  vile, 
'Twere  sinful  to  bo  happy,  'twere  .sacrilege  to  smile. 
I'll  hie  me  to  my  lonely  hall,  and  by  its  cheerless  hob 
I'll  muse  on  other  days,  arid  wish — and  wish  I  were — A  SxOB." 

*'  All  young  Hengland,  I'm  toW,  considers  the  poim  l^ewtifle. 
They're  always  writing  about  battleaxis  and  shivvlery,  these  young 
chaps ;  but  the  ideer  of  Southdown  in  a  shoot  of  amier,  and  his 
cuttin  hotf  his  '  strong  right  hand,'  is  rayther  too  good  ;  the  feller  is 
about  5  fit  hi, — a-s  ricketty  as  a  baV>])v,  with  a  vaist  like  a  gal;  and 
though  he  may  have  the  art  and  curridge  of  a  Bengal  tyger,  I'd 
back  my  smallest  c^b-boy  to  lick  him, — that  is  if  I  ac?  a  cab-boy. 
But  io  I  mt/  cab-days  is  over. 

"  Be  still  my  hagnizing  Art !  I  now  am  about  to  hunfoald  the 
dark  payges  of  the  Istry  of  my  life  !  " 


"  Isiy  friends  !  you've  seen  me  ither2  in  the  full  kerear  of  Fortn, 
prawsprus  but  not  hover  prowd  of  my  ]miwsperraty ;  not  dizzy 
though  mounted  on  the  haypix  of  Good.  Luck — feasting  hall  the 
great  (like  the  Grood  Old  Henglish  Gent  in  the  song,  which  he  has 
been  my  moddle  and  igsample  tlirough  life),  but  not  forgitting  the 
small — No,  my  boa\-viour  to  my  granmother  at  Healing  sliows  that. 
I  bot  her  a  new  donkey  cart  (what  the  French  call  a  cart-blansh) 
and  a  handsome  set  of  peggs  for  anging  up  her  linning,  and  treated 


C.   JEAMES    DE    LA    PLUCHE  413 

Huiicle  Bill  to  a  new  shoot  of  close,  which  he  ordered  in  St.  Jeanies's 
Street,  much  to  the  estonishment  of  my  Snyder  there,  namely  an 
ollitf-green  velvyteen  jackit  and  smalclose,  and  a  crinisn  plush 
weskoat  with  glas-buttns.  These  pints  of  geuarawsity  in  my  dis- 
posishn  I  never  should  have  eluded  to,  but  to  show  that  I  an; 
naturally  of  a  noble  sort,  and  have  that  kind  of  galliant  carndge 
A\  hich  is  equel  to  either  good  or  bad  forting. 

"  What  was  the  substns  of  my  last  chapter  ?  In  that  every- 
think  was  prepayred  for  my  marridge — the  consent  of  the  parents 
of  my  Hangelina  was  gaynd,  the  lovely  gal  herself  was  ready  (as  I 
thought)  to  be  led  to  Himing's  halter — the  trooso  M-as  bordered — 
the  weddin  dressis  were  being  jihitted  hon — a  weddinkake  weighing 
half  a  tunn  was  a  gettn  reddy  by  Mesurs  Gunter,  of  Buckley  Square : 
there  was  such  an  account  for  Shantilly  and  Honitou  laces  as  would 
have  staggerd  hennyboddy  (I  know  tliey  did  the  Conmiissioner 
when  I  came  hup  for  my  Stithkit),  and  has  for  Injar-shawls  I  bawt 
a  dozen  sich  fine  ones  as  never  was  given  away — no  not  by  His^^ 
Iness  the  Injan  Prins  Juggernaut  Tygore.  The  juils  (a  pearl  and 
dimind  shoot)  were  from  the  establishmint  of  Mysurs  Storr  and 
Mortimer.  The  honey-moon  I  intended  to  pass  in  a  continentle 
excussion,  and  was  in  treaty  for  tlie  ouse  at  Halberd-gate  (hopsit 
Mr.  Hudson's)  as  my  town-house.  I  waited  to  cumclude  the  putchis 
untie  the  Share-Markit  which  was  rayther  deprest  (oing  I  think  not 
so  much  to  the  atax  of  the  misrabble  Times,  as  to  the  prodidjr.s 
flams  of  the  Morning  Erald)  was  restored  to  its  elthy  toan.  I 
wasn't  going  to  part  with  scrij)  which  was  20  i)rimmiiun  at  2  or  3  ; 
and  bein  confidnt  that  the  Markit  would  rally,  had  bought  very 
largely  for  the  two  or  three  new  accounts. 

"  This  will  explane  to  those  unfortiught  traydsmen  to  womb  I 
gayv  orders  for  a  large  igstent  ow  it  was  that  I  couldn't  pay  tlieir 
accounts.  /  am  the  sojJ  of  onour — but  no  gent  can  pay  when  he 
has  no  money  : — it's  not  my  fiuilt  if  that  old  screw  Lady  Bareacres 
cabbidged  three  hundred  yards  of  lace,  and  kep  back  4  of  the  biggest 
diminds  and  seven  of  the  largist  Injar  Shawls — it's  not  my  fault  if  the 
tradespeople  didn  git  their  goods  back,  and  that  Lady  B.  declared 
they  were  lost.  I  began  the  world  afresh  with  the  close  on  my 
back,  and  thirteen  and  six  in  money,  concealing  nothink,  giving  up 
heverythink,  Onist  and  undismayed,  and  though  beat,  with  pluck  in 
me  still,  and  ready  to  begin  agin. 

"  Well — it  was  the  day  before  that  apinted  for  my  Ionium.  The 
Riiuidove  steamer  was  lying  at  Dover  ready  to  carry  us  hoff.  The 
Bricile  apartmince  had  been  bordered  at  Salt  Hill,  and  subsquintly 
at  Balong  sur  ]Mare — the  very  table  cloth  was  laid  for  the  weddn 
brexfst  in  111  Street,  and  the  Bride's  Pdght  Keverend  Huncle,  the 


414  THE    DIARY    OF 

Lord  Bishop  of  Bullooksmithy,  had  arrived  to  sellabrayt  our  unium. 
All  the  papers  were  full  of  it.  Crowds  of  the  fiishiiable  world  weut 
to  see  the  trooso,  and  admire  the  Carridges  in  Long  Hacre.  Our 
travleng  charrat  (light  blco  lined  with  pink  satting,  and  vermillimn 
and  goold  weals)  was  the  hadmaration  of  all  for  quiet  ellygns.  We 
were  to  travel  only  4,  viz.,  nie,  my  Lady,  my  vally,  and  Mary  Hann 
as  famdyshamber  to  my  Hangelina.  Far  from  oposing  our  match, 
this  worthy  gal  had  quite  givn  into  it  of  late,  and  laught  and  joakt, 
and  enjoyd  our  plans  for  the  fewter  igseedinkly. 

"  I'd  left  my  lovely  Bride  very  gay  the  night  l^efore — aving  a 
multachewd  of  bisniss  on,  and  Stockbrokers'  and  bankers'  accounts 
to  settle :  atsettrey  atsettrey.  It  was  layt  before  I  got  these  in 
border  :  my  sleap  was  fcavrish,  as  most  mens  is  when  they  are  going 
to  be  marrid  or  to  be  hanged.  I  took  my  chocklit  in  bed  about  one  : 
tried  on  my  wedding  close,  and  found  as  uslde  tliat  tliey  became  me 
exceedingly. 

"  One  thing  distubbed  my  .Tiind — two  weskts  had  been  sent 
home.  A  blush-white  .matting  and  gold,  and  a  kinary  coloured 
tabbinet  imbritlered  in  silver :  which  should  I  wear  on  the  hos- 
picious  day  1  This  hadgitated  and  ]ierj)lext  me  a  good  deal.  I 
detummined  to  go  down  to  Hill  Street  and  cum^jult  the  Lady  whose 
wishi.s  were  henceforth  to  lie  my  Jinlllimll  :  and  wear  whichever  she 
phixt  on. 

"There  was  a  great  bussel  and  distubbans  in  the  Hall  in  111 
Street  which  I  etribyouted  to  the  ejiroaching  event.  The  old  jiorter 
stared  most  uncommon  when  I  kem  in — the  footman  who  was  to 
enounce  me  laft  I  thought — I  wa.s  going  upstairs — 

"  '  Her  Ladyship's  not — not  at  homel  says  the  man  ;  'and  my 
Lady's  hill  in  Ited.' 

"  '  Git  lunch,'  says  I,  '  I'll  wait  till  Lady  Hangelina  returns.' 

"  At  this  the  feller  loox  at  me  for  a  momint  with  his  cheex  blown 
out  like  a  blaildcr,  and  then  busts  out  in  a  reglar  gaftau  I  the  jiorter 
jined  in  it,  the  iiiipidcnt  old  ra.skle  :  and  Thoma.s  says,  slai>jiing  his 
and  on  his  thy,  without  the  least  respect — *  /  my,  Hiifij,  old  boy  ! 
isn't  this  a  good  un  ?  ' 

"  '  Wadyermean,  you  infunnlc  scoundrel,'  says  I,  '  hollaring  and 
iatting  at  me  1 ' 

"  '  Oh,  here's  Miss  Mary  Hanu  coming  up,'  says  Thomas,  *  ask 
her^ — and  indeed  there  came  my  little  Mary  Hann  tripping  down 
the  stairs — her  &s  in  her  pockits ;  and  when  she  saw  me,  she  began 
to  blush  and  look  hod  &  then  to  grin  too. 

"  '  In  the  name  of  Imperence,'  says  I,  rushing  on  Thomas,  and  col- 
laring him  fit  to  throttle  liim — 'no  raskle  of  a  rtnnk>  shall  insult  ;«<>,' 
and  I  sent  him  staggerin  up  against  the  porter,  and  both  of  'em  into 


C.   JEAMES    DE    LA    PLUCHE  415 

the  hall-chair  with  a  llopp — when  Mary  Hanu,  jumping  down,  says, 
'  0  James!  0  Mr.  Plush  !  read  this'— and  she  pulled  out  a  billy  doo. 
"  I  reckanized  the  and-writing  of  Hangelina." 


"Deseatful  Hangelina's  billy  ran  as  follows  : — 

"  '  I  had  all  alony  hoped  that  you  would  have  relinquished  pre- 
tensions which  you  must  have  seen  were  so  disagreeable  to  me ;  and 
have  spared  me  the  painful  necessity  of  the  step  which  I  am  com- 
pelled to  take.  For  a  long  time  I  could  not  believe  my  parents  were 
serious  in  wishing  to  sacrifice  me,  but  have  in  vain  entreated  them 
to  spare  me.  I  cannot  undergo  the  shame  and  misery  of  a  union 
with  you.  To  the  very  last  hour  I  remonstrated  in  vain,  and  only 
now  anticipate,  liy  a  few  hours,  my  departure  from  a  home  from 
which  they  themselves  were  about  to  expel  me. 

"  '  When  you  receive  this,  I  shall  be  united  to  the  person  to 
whom,  as  you  are  aware,  my  heart  was  given  long  ago.  My  parents 
are  already  informed  of  the  step  I  have  taken.  And  I  have  my 
own  honour  to  consult,  even  before  their  benefit :  they  will  forgive 
me,  I  hope  and  feel,  before  long. 

"  '  As  for  yourself,  may  I  not  hope  that  time  will  calm  your 
exquisite  feelings  too  1  I  leave  Mary  Ann  behind  me  to  console 
you.  She  admires  you  as  you  deserve  to  be  admired,  and  with  a 
constancy  which  I  entreat  you  to  try  and  imitate.  Do,  my  dear  Mr. 
Plush,  try — for  the  sake  of  your  sincere  friend  and  admirer,       A. 

"'P..S'. — I.  leave  the  wedding-dresses  behind  for  her:  the 
diamonds  are  beautiful,  and  will  become  Mrs.  Plush  admirably.' 

"  This  wa.s  hall ! — Confew.shn !  And  there  stood  the  footmen  snig- 
gerin,  and  that  hojus  Mary  Hann  half  a  cryin,  half  a  latfing  at  me  ! 
'Who  has  she  gone  hoft'with'?'  rors  I;  and  Mary  Hann  (smiling  with 
one  hi)  just  touched  the  to])  of  one  of  the  Johns'  canes  who  was  goin 
out  with  the  noats  to  put  lioff  the  brekfst.     It  was  Silvertop  then  ! 

"  I  bust  out  of  the  house  in  a  stayt  of  diamoiuacal  igsitement ! 

"  The  stoary  of  that  ilorpmint  /  have  no  art  to  tell.  Here  it  is 
from  the  Morning  Taller  newspaper : — 

"ELOPEMENT    IN  HIGH    LIFE. 

"the  oxly  authentic  account. 

"  The  neigh)  )ourhood  of  Berkeley  Square,  and  the  whole  fashion- 
able world,  has  been  thrown  into  a  state  of  the  most  painful  excite- 
8 


4i6  THE    DIARY    OF 

ment  by  an  event  which  has  just  placed  a  noble  family  in  great 
perplexity  and  affliction. 

"  It  has  long  been  known  among  the  select  nobility  and  gentry 
that  a  marriage  was  on  the  tapis  between  the  only  daughter  of  a 
Noble  Earl,  and  a  Gentleman  whose  rapid  fortunes  in  the  railway 
w'orld  have  been  the  theme  of  general  remark.  Yesterday's  i)aper, 
it  was  supposed,  in  all  human  probability  would  have  contained  an 
account  of  the  marriage  of  James  De  la  Pl-che,  Esq.,  and  the 

Lady  Angehna  ,  (laughter  of  the  Right  Honourable  the  Earl 

of  B-re-cres.  The  prejiarations  for  this  ceremony  were  complete  : 
we  had  the  pleasure  of  inspecting  the  rich  trousseau  (prepared  by 
Miss  Twiddler,  of  Pall  Mall) ;  the  magnificent  jewels  from  the 
establishment  of  Messrs.  Storr  and  Mortimer;  the  elegant  marriage 
cake,  wliich,  already  cut  u])  and  portioned,  is,  alas !  not  destined  to 
be  eaten  by  the  friends  of  ilr.  De  la  Pl-che ;  the  superb  carriages, 
and  magnificent  liveries,  which  had  been  ]>rovided  in  a  style  of  the 
most  lavisli  yet  tasteful  sumptuosity.  The  Right  Reverend  tlie 
Lord  Bisliop  of  BuUoeksmithy  liad  arrived  in  town  to  celebrate  tlu 
nuptials,  and  is  staying  at  Mivart's.  What  must  have  been  the 
feelings  of  that  venerable  jn-elate,  what  tliose  of  the  agonised  and 
noble  parents  of  tl\e  Lady  Angelina — when  it  was  discovered,  on 
the  day  j)revious  to  the  wedding,  that  her  Ladyship  liad  fleil  the 
paternal  mansion  !  To  ^he  venerable  Bishop  the  news  of  lus  noble 
niece's  dejiarture  might  have  been  fatal :  we  have  it  from  the  waiters 
of  Mivart's  that  his  Lordship  was  about  to  indulge  in  the  refresh- 
ment of  turtle  soup  when  the  news  was  brought  to  him  ;  immediate 
apoplexy  was  ai)prehended  ;  but  Mr.  Macaiui,  the  celebrated  surgeon 
of  Westminster,  was  luckily  passing  through  Bond  Street  at  tlic 
time,  and  being  i)roniptly  called  in,  bled  and  relieved  the  exemplary 
patient.  His  Lordship  will  return  to  the  Palace,  BuUoeksmithy, 
to-morrow, 

'•  The  frantic  agonies  of  the  Right  Honourable  the  Earl  of  Bare- 
acres  can  be  imagined  by  every  paternal  heart.  Far  be  it  from  us 
to  disturb — impossible  is  it  for  us  to  describe  their  noble  sorrow. 
Our  reporters  have  made  inquiries  every  ten  min\ites  at  the  Earl's 
mansion  in  Hill  Street,  regarding  the  lioalth  of  the  Xoble  Peer  and 
his  incomparal)le  Countess.  They  have  been  received  with  a  nule- 
ness  which  we  deplore  but  jianlon.  One  wa.s  threatened  with  a 
cane;  another,  in  the  ])ursuit  of  his  official  in(|uiries,  was  saluted 
with  a  pail  of  water;  a  third  gentleman  was  menaced  in  a  pugilistic 
manner  by  his  Lordship's  porter ;  but  being  of  an  Irish  nation,  a 
man  of  spirit  and  sinew,  and  ^Master  of  Arts  of  Trinity  College, 
Dublin,  the  gentleman  of  our  establishment  confronted  the  menial, 
and  having  severely  beaten  him,  retired  to  a  neighbouring  hotel 


C.   JEAMES    DE    LA    PLUCHE  417 

mucli  frequented  liy  the  domestics  of  the  surrounding  nobility,  and 
there  obtained  what  we  beUeve  to  be  the  most  accurate  particulars 
of  this  extraordinary  occurrence. 

"  George  Frederick  Jennings,  third  footman  in  the  establish- 
ment of  Lord  Bareacres,  stated  to  our  emploiie  as  follows  : — Lady 
Angelina  had  been  ijromised  to  Mr.  De  la  Pluche  for  near  six  weeks. 
She  never  could  abide  that  gentleman.  He  was  the  laughter  of  all 
the  servants'  hall.  Previous  to  his  elevation  he  had  himself  been 
engaged  in  a  domestic  capacity.  At  that  period  he  had  ofiered 
marriage  to  Mary  Ann  Hoggins,  who  was  living  in  the  quality  of 
ladies'-maid  in  the  family  where  Mr.  De  la  P.  was  employed.  Miss 
Hoggins  became  subsequently  lady's-maid  to  Lady  Angelina — the 
elopement  was  arranged  between  those  two.  It  was  IMiss  Hoggins 
who  delivered  the  mite  which  informed  the  bereaved  Mr.  Plush  of 
his  loss. 

"  Samuel  Buttons,  page  to  the  Ptight  Honourable  the  Earl  of 
Bareacres,  was  ordered  on  Friday  afternoon  at  eleven  o'clock  to 
fetch  a  cabriolet  from  the  stand  in  Davies  Street.  He  selected  the 
cab  No.  19,796,  driven  by  George  Gregory  Macarty,  a  one-eyed 
man  from  Clonakilty,  in  the  neighbourhood  of  Cork,  Ireland  {of 
xvhom  more  anon),  and  waited,  according  to  his  instructions,  at  the 
corner  of  Berkeley  Square,  with  his  vehicle.  His  young  lady, 
accompanied  by  her  maid.  Miss  Mary  Ann  Hoggins,  carrying  a 
bandbox,  presently  arrived,  and  entered  the  cab  with  the  box  :  wliat 
were  the  contents  of  that  box  we  have  never  been  able  to  ascertain. 
On  asking  her  Ladyship  whether  he  should  order  the  cab  to  drive 
in  any  particular  direction,  he  Avas  told  to  drive  to  Madame  Crino- 
line's, the  eminent  milliner  in  Cavendish  Square.  On  requesting  to 
know  whether  he  should  accompany  her  Ladyship,  Buttons  was 
peremptorily  ordered  by  ]\Iiss  Hoggins  to  go  about  his  business. 

"  Having  now  his  clue,  our  reporter  instantly  went  in  search  of 
cab  19,796,  or  rather  the  driver  of  that  vehicle,  who  was  discovered 
with  no  small  difficulty  at  his  residence,  Whetstone  Park,  Lincoln's 
Inn  Fields,  where  he  lives  with  his  family  of  nine  children.  Having 
received  two  sovereigns,  instead  doubtless  of  two  shillings  (his 
regular  fore,  by  the  way,  would  have  been  only  one-and-eightpence), 
]\Iacarty  had  "not  gone  out  with  the  cab  for  the  two  last  days, 
passing  them  in  a  state  of  almost  ceaseless  intoxication.  His  replies 
were  very  incoherent  in  answer  to  the  queries  of  our  rei)orter  ;  and, 
had  not  that  gentleman  himself  been  a  compatriot,  it  is  jn-obable  he 
would  have  refused  altogether  to  satisfy  tlie  curiosity  of  the  public. 

"At  Madame  Crinoline's,  Miss   Hoggins  quitted  the  carriage, 
and  a   gentleman  entered   it.     Macarty  describes   him  as  a  very 
clever  gentleman  (meaning  tall)  with  black  moustaches,  Oxford-gr-ey 
2  H 


4i8  THE    DIARY   OF 

trousers,  and  black  hat  and  a  pea  coat.  He  drove  the  couple  to  the 
Euston  Square  Station,  and  there  left  them.  How  he  employed 
his  time  subsequently  we  have  stated. 

"At  the  Euston  Square  Station,  the  gentleman  of  our  estab- 
lishment learned  from  Frederick  Corduroy,  a  porter  there,  that  a 
gentleman  answering  the  above  description  had  taken  places  to 
Derby.  We  have  desj)atched  a  confidential  gentleman  thither,  by 
a  special  train,  and  shall  give  his  report  in  a  second  edition. 

"SECOND    EDITION. 
"(from  our  reporter.) 

"  Newcastle  :  Monday. 

"  I  am  just  arrived  at  this  ancient  to-mi,  at  the  '  Elephant  and 
Cucumber  Hotel'  A  party  travelling  under  the  name  of  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Jones,  the  gentleman  wearing  moustaches,  and  having  with 
them  a  blue  bandliox,  arrived  bv  the  train  two  hours  before  me, 
and  have  posted  onwards  to  Scotland.  I  have  ordered  four  horses, 
and  write  this  on  the  hind  boot,  as  they  are  putting  to. 

"THIRD  EDITION. 

"  Gretna  Green  :  Monday  Evening. 

"The  mystery  is  at  length  solved.  Tliis  afternoon,  at  four 
o'clock,  the  Hymeneal  Blacksmith,  of  Gretna  Green,  celebrated  the 
marria.gfe  between  George  Granby  Silvertop,  Esq.,  a  Lieutenant  in 
the  ISOtli  Hussars,  third  son  of  General  John  Silvertop,  of  Silvertop 
Hall,  Yorkshire,  and  Lady  Emily  Silvertop,  daughter  of  the  late 
sister  of  the  present  Earl  of  Bareacres,  and  tlie  Lady  Angelina 
Amelia  Arethusa  Anaconda  Alexandrina  Alicompania  Annemaria 
Antoinetta,  daughter  of  the  last-named  Earl  Bareacres." 

{Here  follows  a  long  extract  from  the  Marriage  Service  in  the 
Book  of  Common  Prayer,  which  zvas  not  read  on  the  occasion, 
and  need  not  be  repeated  here.) 

"  After  the  ceremonj-,  the  young  couple  partook  of  a  slight 
refreshment  of  sherry  and  water— the  former  the  Captain  pro- 
nounced to  be  execrable;  and,  having  myself  tasted  some  glasses 
from  the  very  same  bottle  with  which  the  young  and  noble  pair 
were  served,  I  must  say  I  think  the  Captain  was  ratlier  hard  upon 
mine  host  of  the  '  Bagpipes  Hotel  and  Posting-House,'  whence  they 
instantly  proceeded.     I  follow  them  as  soon  as  the  horses  have  fed!^ 


C.   JEAMES    DE    LA    PLUCHE  419 

"FOURTH    EDITION. 

"shameful  treatment  of  our  reporter. 

"  Whistlebinkie,  N.B.  :  Mondaij,  midnight. 

"  I  arrived  at  this  romantic  little  villa  about  two  hours  after  the 
newly-married  couple,  whose  progress  I  have  the  honour  to  trace, 
reached  Whistlebinkie.  They  have  taken  up  their  residence  at  the 
'  Cairngorm  Arms ' — mine  is  at  the  other  hostelry,  the  '  Clachan 
of  Whistlebinkie.' 

"  On  driving  up  to  the  '  Cairngorm  Arms,'  I  found  a  gentleman 
of  military  appeorance  standing  at  the  door,  and  occupied  seemingly 
in  smoking  a  cigar.  It  was  very  dark  as  I  descended  from  my 
carriage,  and  the  gentleman  in  question  exclaimed,  '  Is  it  you, 
Southdown,  my  boy  1  You  have  come  too  late  ;  unless  you  are  come 
to  have  some  sui)per;'  or  words  to  that  effect.  I  ex])lained  that 
I  was  not  the  Lord  Viscount  Southdown,  and  politely  apprised 
Captain  Silvertop  (for  I  justly  concluded  the  individual  before  me 
could  be  no  other)  of  his  mistake. 

"  '  Who  the  deuce '  (the  Captain  used  a  stronger  term)  '  are  you, 
then  1 "  said  Mr.  Silvertop.  'Are  you  Baggs  and  Tapewell,  my  uncle's 
attorneys'?     If  you  ai'e,  you  have  come  too  late  for  the  fair.' 

"  I  briefly  explained  that  I  Avas  not  Baggs  and  Tapewell,  but 
that  my  name  was  J-ms,  and  that  I  was  a  gentleman  connected 
with  the  establishment  of  the  Morning  Tailer  newspaper. 

" '  And  what  has  brought  you  here,  Mr.  Morning  Tatler  % ' 
asked  my  interlocutor,  rather  roughly.  My  answer  was  frank — 
that  the  disappearance  of  a  noble  lady  from  the  house  of  her  friends 
had  caused  the  greatest  excitement  in  the  metropolis,  and  that  my 
employers  were  anxious  to  give  the  jiublic  every  particular  regarding 
an  event  so  singular. 

"  '  And  do  you  mean  to  say,  sir,  that  you  have  dogged  me  all 
the  way  from  London,  and  that  my  family  affairs  are  to  be  published 
for  the  readers  of  the  Morning  Tathr  newspaper  %     The  Morning 

Tatler  be  '  (the  Captain  here  gave  utterance  to  an  oath  which 

I  shall  not  repeat),  'and  you  too,  sir;  you  impudent  meddling 
scoundrel.' 

"  '  Scoundrel,  sir  ! '  said  I.  '  Yes,'  replied  the  irate  gentleman, 
seizing  me  rudely  by  the  collar — and  he  would  have  choked  me,  but 
that  my  blue  satin  stock  and  false  collar  gave  way,  and  were  left  in 
the  hands  of  this  gentleman.  '  Help,  landlord  !  '  I  loudly  exclaimed, 
adding,  I  believe,  '  nuuxler,'  and  otlier  exclamations  of  alarm.  In 
vain  i  appealed  to  the  crowd,  which  by  this  time  was  pretty  con- 


420  THE    DIARY   OF 

siderable ;  and  the  unfeeling  post-boys  only  burst  into  laughter,  and 
called  out,  '  Give  it  him,  Captain.'  A  struggle  ensued,  in  whicli 
I  have  no  doubt  I  should  have  had  the  better,  but  that  the  Captain, 
joining  suddenly  in  the  general  and  indecent  hilarity,  which  'wa.s 
doubled  when  I  fell  down,  stopped  and  said,  '  Well,  Jims,  I  won't 
fight  on  my  maniage-day.  Go  into  the  tap,  Jims,  and  order  a  glass 
of  brandy-aud-water  at  my  expense — and  mind  I  don't  see  your  fixce 
to-morrow  morning,  or  I'll  make  it  more  ugly  tlian  it  is.' 

"  With  these  gi'oss  exi)res.sions  and  a  cheer  from  the  crowd,  'Mr. 
Silvertop  entered  the  inn.  I  need  not  say  tliat  I  did  not  partake 
of  his  hospitality,  and  that  personally  I  despise  his  insults.  I  make 
them  known  that  they  may  call  do\\Ti  the  indignation  of  tlie  body  ot 
which  I  am  a  member,  and  throw  myself  on  tlie  sympathy  of  the 
public,  as  a  gentleman  shamefully  assaiUted  and  insulted  in  the 
discharge  of  a  public  duty." 


"  Tlius  you've  sean  how  the  flower  of  my  affeckshns  was  tawn 
out  of  nay  busm,  and  my  art  was  left  bleading.  Hangelina  !  I  forgive 
thee.  Maco  thou  be  appy  I  If  ever  artfelt  prayer  for  others  wlieel 
awailed  on  i,  tlie  beink  on  womb  you  tramjjlcd  addresses  those 
subblygations  to  E\ni  in  your  heh  ! 

"  I  went  home  like  a  maniack,  after  hearing  the  announcement 
of  Hangelina's  dcpjirtcr.  Slie'd  been  gone  twenty  hours  when  I 
heard  the  fatle  noose.  Purshoot  was  vain.  Suppose  I  did  kitch 
lior  up,  tlioy  were  married,  and  what  could  we  do  I  Tliis  sensa])lf 
remark  I  made  to  Earl  Bareacres,  when  that  distragted  nobleman 
igspawstulated  with  me.  Er  who  was  to  have  been  my  mother-in- 
lor,  the  Countiss,  I  never  from  that  momink  sor  agin.  My  presnt-^, 
troosoes,  juels,  &:c.,  Averesent  back — with  the  igsepshn  of  thediminds 
and  Cashmcar  shawl,  wldch  her  Ladyship  amlnt  Jind.  (.)ny  it 
was  wispered  that  at  the  nex  buthday  she  was  seen  with  a  shawl 
igsacJihj  of  the  same  jmftn.     Let  er  keep  it. 

"  Soutlidown  wa.s  phirrius.  He  came  to  me  liafter  the  ewent, 
and  wanted  me  to  adwance  50  lb.,  so  that  lie  might  purshew  his 
fewgitif  sister — but  I  wasn't  to  be  ad  with  that  sort  of  chaugh — 
there  was  no  more  money  for  that  famly.  Si>  he  went  away,  and 
gave  huttrance  to  his  feelinx  in  a  poem,  which  appeared  (price  2 
guineas)  in  the  Bel  Asomhhj. 

"  All  the  juilers,  manchuraakers,  lacemen,  coch  bilders,  apolstrers, 
hors  dealers,  and  weddencake  makers  came  jtawring  in  with  their 
bills,  haggravating  feelings  already  woomlid  beyond  enjurants.  That 
madniss  didn't  seaze  me  that  night  was  a  nuissy.     Fever,  fewrj'. 


C.   JEAMES    DE    LA    PLUCHE  421 

and  raysxe  rack'd  my  ha,>j;nized  braind,  and  drove  sleap  from  my 
throbbink  ilids.  Hall  night  I  foUered  Hangeliuar  in  imadganation 
idong  the  Nortli  Eoad.  I  wented  ciLsses  &  mallydickshuns  on  tlie 
hinfamus  Silvertop.  I  kiekd  and  rord  in  my  imhnttarable  whoe  ! 
I  sca^zd  my  i)iUar :  I  i)itcht  into  it :  pummkl  it,  strangled  it.  Ha 
har !  I  tliought  it  was  Silvertop  writhing  in  my  Jint  gi-asp ;  and 
taw  the  horilayshis  Tilling  lim  from  lim  in  the  terrible  strenth  of 
my  dospare  !  .  .  .  Let  )no  drop  a  cutting  over  the  memries  of  that 
idglit.  When  my  lioddy-suvnt  came  with  my  ot  water  in  the 
luawning,  the  livid  co])se  in  the  cliamill  was  not  payler  than  the 
gashly  De  la  Pluche  ! 

"  *  Give  me  the  Share-list,  Mandeville,'  I  micanickly  igsclaimed. 
I  had  not  i)enised  it  for  the  ])ast  3  <Lays,  my  etention  being  engayged 
elseware.  B.cyi\s  &  huth  1 — wliat  Avas  it  I  red  there  ?  What  was 
it  tliat  made  me  spring  outabed  as  if  siunbady  had  given  me  cold 
pig? — I  red  Eewin  in  that  Share-list  —  the  Paunick  was  in  full 
lioparation  i " 

••♦•*• 

"Shall  I  describe  that  kitastrafy  with  which  hall  Hengland 
is  familliar?  My  &  rifewses  to  cronnicle  the  misfortns  which 
lassaratcd  my  bleeding  art  in  Hoctober  last.  On  the  fust  of 
Hawgnist  where  w^as  I?  Director  of  twenty-three  Companies; 
older  of  scriji  hall  at  a  i)i-imminm,  and  worth  at  least  a  qnarter 
of  a  millium.  On  Loi-d  Marc's  (Liy,  my  Saint  Hclcims  quotid  at 
14  pm,  were  do^xn  at  h  dlseoimt;  my  Central  Ichaboes  at  |  dis- 
count ;  my  Table  Moimling  &  Hottentot  Grand  Tnmk,  no  where  ; 
my  Bathershins  and  Dcrr>Tiane  Beg,  of  which  I'd  bought  2000  for 
the  accoimt  at  17  prmiraimn,  do^™  to  nix ;  my  Juan  Eeniandez, 
my  Gveat  Central  Oregons,  prostrit  There  was  a  momint  when  I 
thought  I  shouldn't  be  alive  to  -imte  my  o^ti  tail  ] " 

(Here  follow  in  Mr.  Plush's  MS.  about  twenty-foiu-  pages  of 
railroad  calculations,  which  we  i)retcrmit,) 

"Those  becsts,  Pump  &  Ald.gate,  once  so  cringing  and  imible, 
wrote  me  a  thi-eatnen  letter  because  I  overdrew  my  .account  tliree- 
and-srxpence :  woodmt  advance  me  five  thousand  on  25,000  worth 
of  scrip;  kep  me  waiting  2  hours  when  I  asked  to  see  the  house ; 
and  then  sent  out  Spout,  the  jewnior  partner,  saying  they  wouldn't 
discount  my  paper,  and  implawed  me  to  clothes  my  aceoirat.  I  did  : 
I  paid  the  three-and-six  balliance,  and  never  sor  'em  mor. 

-'The  market  fell  daily.  The  Rewin  grew  wusser  and  wusser. 
Hagnies,  Ha.gnies  !  It  wasn't  in  the  city  aloan  my  misfortns  came 
upon  me.     They  beerdcd  me  in  my  own  ome>     Tlie  biddle  who 


422  THE    DIARY    OF 

kips  watch  at  the  Halbany  wodu  kcei>  jnisfortn  out  of  my  chambers  ; 
and  Mrs.  Twiddler,  of  Pall  Mall,  and  Mr.  Himx,  of  Long  Acre,  put 
egsicution  into  my  apartmince,  and  swop  off  every  stick  of  my 
furniture.  '  Waixlrobe  &  furniture  of  a  man  of  fashion.'  What  an 
adwertisement  Grcorgo  Robins  did  make  of  it ;  and  what  a  crowd 
was  collected  to  laff  at  the  prospick  of  my  ruing !  ]\Iy  chice  plait ; 
my  seller  of  wine ;  my  picturs— tliat  of  myself  included  fit  was 
Maryhann,  bless  her !  that  bought  it,  unbeknown  to  me) ;  all — 
all  went  to  the  ammer.  That  brootle  Fitzwarren,  my  exvally, 
womb  I  met,  fimilliarly  slapt  me  on  the  sholder,  and  said,  '  Jeames, 
my  boy,  you'd  best  go  into  suvvis  aginn.' 

"  I  did  go  into  suv\is — the  wust  of  all  suvvices — I  went  into 
the  Queen's  Bench  Prison,  and  lay  there  a  misrabble  captif  for  6 
mortial  weeks.  Misrabl>l('  shall  I  say?  no,  not  misrabble  altogether  ; 
there  Avas  sunlike  in  the  dunjiiig  of  the  pore  i)risner.  I  had  visitors. 
A  cart  used  to  drive  hup  to  the  i)rizn  gates  of  Saturdays ;  a  washy- 
woman's  cart,  with  a  fat  old  lady  in  it,  and  a  young  one.  Who 
was  that  youni,^  one  1  Everyone  who  has  an  art  can  gess,  it  was 
my  blue-eyed  lil ashing  hangel  of  a  iliuy  Hann  !  'Shall  we  take 
him  out  in  the  linneu-basket,  Grandmamma  T  Mary  Hann  said. 
Bless  her,  she'd  already  Iciimed  to  say  grandmaniina  quite  natral ; 
but  I  didn't  go  out  that  way ;  I  went  out  by  the  door  a  white- 
Avashed  man.  Ho,  what  a  feast  there  was  at  Heading  the  day  I 
came  out !  I'd  thirteen  shillings  left  when  I'd  bought  the  gold 
ring.  I  wasn't  i)rowd.  I  turned  the  mangle  for  three  weeks  :  and 
then  Uncle  Bill  said,  '  Well,  there  is  some  good  in  the  feller  \ '  anil 
it  was  agreed  that  we  should  marry." 

The  Plush  manuscript  finishes  here ;  it  is  many  weeks  since  wo 
saw  the  accomplishe<l  writer,  and  we  have  oidy  just  learaed  his 
fate.  We  are  happy  to  state  that  it  is  a  comfortable  and  almost  a 
prosperous  one. 

The  Honourable  and  Right  Reverend  Lionel  Thistlewood,  Lord 
Bishop  of  Bullocksmithy,  was  mentioned  as  the  uncle  of  Lady 
Angelina  Silvertop.  Her  elopement  with  her  cousin  caused  deei> 
emotion  to  the  venerable  prelate :  he  returned  to  the  palace  at 
Bnll(X'ksinithy,  of  Avhich  he  had  been  for  thirty  years  the  ejiiscopal 
ornament,  and  where  he  married  three  Avives,  who  lie  buried  in  his 
Cathedral  Church  of  St.  Boniface,  Bidlncksniithy. 

The  aduiii-able  man  has  rejoined  those  whom  he  loA-ed.  As  he 
Avas  preparing  a  charge  to  his  clergy  in  his  study  after  dinner,  the 
Lord  Bishop  fell  suddenly  down  in  a  fit  of  apoplexy ;  his  butler, 
bringing  in  his  accustomed  dish  of  devilled  kiflncys  for  supper,  dis- 
covered the  venerable  form  extended  on  the  Turkey  carpet  Avith  a 


C.   JEAMES    DE    LA    PLUOHE  423 

glass  of  Madeira  in  his  liaiid  ;  l)ut  life  was  extinct :  and  surgical  aid 
was  tliorcforo  not  particularly  visciful. 

All  the  late  preLitc^'s  wives  had  fortunes,  which  the  adiuiniblc 
man  increased  by  thril't,  the  judicious  sale  of  leases  which  fell  in 
during  his  episcopacy,  &c.  He  left  tliree  hundred  thousand  ])oiui(ls 
—divided  between  his  nephew  and  niece — not  a  gi'eater  sum  than 
has  been  left  by  several  deceased  Irish  prelates. 

What  Lord  Southdown  has  done  with  his  share  we  are  not 
called  ui)on  to  state.  He  lias  composed  an  epitapli  to  the  Martyr 
ui  Bullocksmithy,  which  does  him  infinite  credit.  But  we  are 
happy  to  state  that  Lady  Angelina  Silvertop  presented  five  hundred 
])ounds  to  her  faithful  and  atrec'tionatc  st'rvant,  Mary  Ann  Hoggins, 
on  her  marriage  with  Mr.  James  I'lush,  to  whom  her  Ladysliii»  also 
made  a  handsome  present — namely,  the  lease,  good-will,  and  fixtures 
of  the  "  Wheel  of  Fortune  "  public-house,  near  Shepherd's  Market, 
Mayfair :  a  house  greatly  frcciuented  by  all  the  no])ility's  footmen, 
doing  a  genteel  stroke  of  liusiiu^ss  in  the  neigld)ourhood,  and  where, 
as  we  have  heard,  the  "Butlers'  Club"  is  held. 

Here  Mr.  Plush  lives,  liapjiy  in  a  blooming  and  interesting  wife: 
reconciled  to  a  middU;  si)hcre  of  life,  as  he  was  to  a  humbler  ami  a 
higher  one  before.  He  has  shaved  off  his  wliiskers,  and  acconuno- 
dates  himself  to  an  ai)ron  with  perfect  good-humoiu-.  A  gentleman 
connected  with  this  establishment  dined  at  tlie  "Wheel  of  Fortune  ' 
the  other  day,  and  collected  the  above  i)articulars.  Mr.  Fhisli 
blushed  rather,  as  he  brought  in  the  first  disji,  and  told  his  story 
very  modestly  over  a  pint  of  excellent  port.  He  had  only  one 
tiling  in  life  to  comi)lain  of,  he  said  that  a  witless  version  of  his 
adventures  had  been  produced  at  the  Princess's  Theatre,  "without 
with  your  leaf  or  by  your  leaf,"  as  he  expressed  it.  "  Has  for  the 
rest,"  the  worthy  fellow  said,  "I'm  appy~- j^raps  betwixt  you  and 
me  I'm  in  my  proper  spear.  I  enjy  my  glass  of  beer  or  port  (with 
your  elth  &  my  suvvice  to  you,  sir)  quite  as  much  as  my  clarrit 
in  my  i)rawsprus  days.  I've  a  good  busniss,  which  is  likely  to  be 
better.  If  a  man  can't  be  appy  with  such  a  wife  as  my  ^  Mary 
Hann,  he's  a  beest :  and  when  a  christening  takes  place  in  our 
famly,  will  you  give  my  complments  to  Mr.  Punch,  and  ask  him  to 
be  godfather." 


LETTERS    OF  JEAMES 


JEAMES    ON    TIME    BARGINGS 

PERAPS  at  this  present  niomiuk  of  Railway  Hagetation  and 
unsafety  tli«  foUying  little  istory  of  a  young  friend  of  mine 
may  hact  as  an  olesome  warning  to  bother  weak  and  hirreso- 
lute  young  gents. 

"  Young  Frederick  Timmins  was  the  horphan  son  of  a  respectable 
cludgyman   in   the  West  of  Hengland.      Hadopted  by  his  uncle. 

Colonel  T ,  of  the  Hoss-Mareens,   and  regardless  of  expence, 

this  young  man  was  sent  to  Heatou  ColUdge,  and  subsiquintly  to 
Hoxford,  Avhere  he  was  very  nearly  being  Senior  Rangier.  He  came 
to  London  to  study  for  the  lor.  His  prospix  was  bright  indead  ; 
and  He  lived  in  a  secknd  flore  in  Jerming  Street,  ha\lng  a  gluteal 
inkum  of  two  hundred  lbs.  per  hannum. 

"  "With  this  andsum  enuitj'  it  may  be  suppased  that  Frederick 
wanted  for  nothink.  Nor  did  he.  He  was  a  moral  and  well- 
educated  young  man,  who  took  care  of  liis  clase ;  poUisht  his  hone 
tea-party  boots;  cleaned  his  kidd-gloves  with  injer  rubber;  and, 
when  not  innted  to  dine  out,  took  his  meals  reglar  at  the  Hoxford 
and  Cambriilge  Club — where  (unless  somebody  treated  him)  he  was 
never  known  to  igseed  his  alf-i)int  of  Marsally  Wine. 

"  Merrits  and  vuttues  such  as  his  coodnt  long  pass  unperseavd 
in  the  world.  Admitted  to  the  most  fashnabble  parties,  it  wasn't 
long  before  scM'al  of  the  yoimg  lathes  viewed  him  with  a  favorable 
i ;  one,  ixpecially,  the  lovely  Miss  Hemily  JMulligatawney,  daughter 
of  the  Heast-Injar  Derector  of  that  name.  As  she  was  the  richest 
gal  of  all  the  season,  of  corse  Frederick  fell  in  love  with  her.  His 
haspirations  were  on  the  pint  of  being  crowndid  with  success ;  and 
it  was  agreed  that  as  soon  as  he  was  called  to  the  bar,  when  he 
would  sutnly  T)e  apinted  a  Judge,  or  a  revising  barrister,  or  Lord 
Chanslor,  he  should  lead  her  to  the  halter. 

"What  life  could  be  more  desirable  than  Frederick's?  He  gave 
up  his  mornings  to  perfeshnl  studdy,  under  Mr.  Bluebag,  the 
heminent  pleader;  he  devoted  his  heveuings  to  helegant  sosiaty  at 


JEAMES    ON    TIME    BARGINGS  425 

his  Clubb,  or  with  his  hadord  Hemily.  He  had  no  cares  ;  no  detts  ; 
no  egstravigancies ;  he  never  was  known  to  ride  in  a  cabb,  iiuless 
one  of  his  tip-top  friends  lent  it  him ;  to  go  to  a  theayter  unless  he 
got  a  border;  or  to  lienter  a  tavern  or  smoke  a  cigar.  If  prosperraty 
was  hever  chocked  out,  it  was  for  that  young  man. 

"  But  mcl-mstances  arose.  Fatle  suckmstances  for  pore  Frederick 
Timmins.     The  Railway  Hoperatious  began. 

"  For  some  time,  immerst  in  lor  and  love,  in  the  hardent  hoc- 
cupations  of  his  cheembers,  or  the  sweet  sosiaty  of  liis  Hemily, 
Frederick  took  no  note  of  railroads.  He  did  not  reckonize  the 
jigautic  revalution  wliich  with  hiron  strides  was  a  walkin  over  the 
country.  But  they  began  to  be  talked  of  even  in  his  quiat  haunts. 
Heven  in  the  Hoxford  and  Cambridge  Clubb,  fellers  were  a  specu- 
latin.  Tom  Thumper  (of  Brasen  Nose)  cleared  four  thousand  lb.; 
Bob  Bullock  (of  Hcxeter),  wlio  had  lost  all  his  proppaty  gambling, 
had  set  himself  up  again ;  and  Jack  Deuceace,  who  had  won  it, 
had  won  a  small  istate  besides  by  lucky  specklations  in  the  Share 
Markit. 

" Hevery  body  won.  'Why  shouldn't  IV  thought  pore  Fred; 
and  having  saved  100  lb.,  he  began  a  writin  for  shares — using,  like 
an  ickonominicle  feller  as  he  was,  the  Clubb  paper  to  a  prodigious 
igstent.  All  the  Piailroad  directors,  his  friends,  helped  him  to  shares 
— the  allottments  came  tuml)ling  in — he  took  the  primmiums  by 
fifties  and  hundreds  a  day.  His  desk  was  cramd  full  of  bank  notes  : 
his  brane  world  with  igsitement. 

"  He  gave  up  going  to  the  Temple,  and  might  now  be  seen  hall 
day  about  Capel  Court.  He  took  no  moi-e  hinterest  in  lor;  but 
his  whole  talk  was  of  railroad  lines.  His  desk  at  Mr.  Bluebag's 
was  filled  full  of  prospectisises,  and  that  legal  gent  wrote  to  Fred's 
uncle,  to  say  he  feared  he  was  neglectin  his  bisniss. 

"  Alass  !  he  ions  neglectin  it,  and  all  his  sober  and  industerous 
habits.  He  begann  to  give  dinners,  and  thought  notliin  of  partys 
to  Greenwich  or  Richmond.  He  didn't  see  his  Hemily  near  so 
often :  although  the  hawdacious  and  misguided  young  man  might 
have  done  so  much  more  heasily  now  than  before  :  for  now  he  kep  a 
Broom  ! 

"  But  there's  a  tumminus  to  hevery  Railway.  Fred's  was  ap- 
proachin  :  in  an  evil  hour  he  began  making  time-hargings.  Let  this 
be  a  warning  to  all  young  fellers,  and  Fred's  huntimely  bend  hoperate 
on  them  in  a  moral  pint  of  vu ! 

"  You  all  know  under  what  favrabble  suckemstanses  the  Great 
Hafrican  Line,  the  Grand  Niger  Junction,  or  Gold  Coast  and 
Timbuctoo  (Provishnal)  Hatmospheric  Railway  came  out  four  weeks 
ago :   deposit   ninepence   per   share  of  201.   (six  elephant's  teeth, 


426  LETTERS    OF    JEAMES 

twelve  tons  of  palm-oil,  or  four  healthy  niggers,  African  currency) 

the  shares  of  this  helegeble  investment  rose  to  1,  2,  3,  in  the 

Markit.  A  happy  man  was  Fred  when,  after  paying  down  100 
ninepences  (3/.,  Ws.),  he  sold  his  shares  for  250^.  He  gave  a 
dinner  at  the  '  Star  and  Garter '  that  verj-  day.  I  promise  you 
there  was  no  Marsally  there. 

"  Kex  day  they  were  up  at  3|.  This  put  Fred  in  a  rage  :  they 
rose  to  5,  he  was  in  a  fewry.  '  What  an  ass  I  was  to  sell,'  said 
he,  *  when  all  this  money  avi^s  to  be  won  ! ' 

" '  And  so  you  were  an  Ass,'  saiil  liis  partiklar  friend,  Colonel 
Claw,  K.X.R.,  a  director  of  the  line,  '  a  double-eared  Ass.  My  dear 
fellow,  the  shares  will  be  at  15  next  week.  Will  you  give  me  your 
solemn  word  of  honour  not  to  bi-eathe  to  mortal  man  what  I  am 
going  to  tell  you  1 ' 

"  *  Honour  bright,'  says  Fred. 

" '  Hudson  has  joined  the  line.'  Fred  didn't  .say  a  wonl 
more,  but  went  tumbling  down  to  the  City  in  his  Brtmm.  You 
know  the  state  of  the  streats.     Claw  went  by  water. 

'"Buy  me  one  thousand  Hafricans  for  the  30th,'  crie.s  Fred, 
busting  into  his  broker's;  and  they  were  done  for  him  at  4|.'' 

•  •••••• 

"  Can't  you  guess  the  rest  ?  Haven't  you  seen  the  Share  List  \ 
which  says  : — 

" '  Great  Africans,  paid  9(Z. ;  price  \  par,' 

"  And  that's  what  came  of  my  pore  dear  friend  Timmins's  time- 
barging. 

"  What'll  become  of  him  I  can't  say ;  for  nolxnly  has  seen  him 
since.  His  loilgins  in  Jerming  Street  is  to  let.  His  brokers  in 
vain  deplores  his  absaice.  His  Uncle  ha.s  declaretl  his  marriage 
with  his  housekeeix'r  ;  and  the  Mnrvimj  Enild  (that  emusimx  print) 
has  a  jiaragraf  yesterday  in  the  fashnabble  news,  he5»de<l  'Marriage 
in  High  Life. — The  rich  and  beautifid  Mi.ss  ilulligatiiwney,  of  Port- 
land Place,  is  to  be  speedily  unitetl  to  Colonel  Claw,  K.X.R.' 

"Jeamjes." 


JEAMES   ON   THE   GAUGE   QUESTION 

"You  will  scarcely  praps  reckonize  in  this  little  skit'h  the  haltered 
liniiuints  of  1,  with  woos  face  the  rcders  of  your  valluble  mislny 
were  once  fimiliar, — the  uufortnt  Jeames  de  la  Pluche,  fondy  so 
selabrated  in  the  foshnabble  suckles,  now  the  pore  Jeames  Plush, 


JEAMES    ON    THE    GAUGE    QUESTION       427 

landlord  of  the  *  Wheel  of  Fortune '  public  house.  Yes,  that  is  me  ! 
that  is  my  haypun  which  I  wear  as  Iveeomes  a  publican — tiiose  is 
the  checkers  which  hornyment  the  pillows  of  my  dor.  I  am  like  the 
Komiu  Genral,  St.  Ceiiatus,  equal  to  any  emudgency  of  Fortun.  I, 
who  have  drunk  Shampang  in  my  time,  aint  now  abov  droring  a  h 
l>int  of  Small- Bier.  As  for  my  "wiie — that  Angel — I've  not  ventured 
to  clepigt  her.  ■  Fansy  her  a  .sittn  in  the  Bar,  smiln  like  a  sunflower 
— and,  ho,  dear  Punch!  happy  in  nussing  a  deer  little  darlint  totsy- 
vvotsy  of  a  Jeiimes,  with  my  air  to  a  curl,  and  my  i's  to  a  T  1 

"  I  never  thought  I  should  have  been  injuiced  to  write  anytliing 
but  a  Bill  agin,  much  less  to  edress  you  on  Riilway  Subjix — whicli 
with  all  my  sole  I  ahaw.  Railway  letters,  obbligations  to  pay  hup, 
gluteal  inquirv'.s  as  to  my  Saliss;itor's  name,  &c.  &c.,  I  <lispLze  and 
scorn  artily.  But  as  a  man,  an  usbnd,  a  father,  and  a  freehon  Brittn, 
my  jewty  compels  me  to  come  forwoods,  and  igspress  my  opinion 
upon  that  nashnal  neivsance — the  break  of  Gage. 

"  An  interesting  ewent  in  a  noble  family  with  which  I  once  very 
nearly  h;ui  the  honor  of  being  kinected,  acurd  a  iaw  weex  sins,  wlien 
the  Lady  Angelina  S -,  daughter  of  the  Earl  of  B cres,  pre- 
sented the  gidlant  Cai)ting,  her  usl«ind,  \''\i\\  a  Son  &  hair.  Nothink 
woidd  .satasfy  her  Ladyship  but  that  her  old  and  iittacht  finidy- 
shamter,  my  wife  Mary  Hann  Plush,  shoukl  be  jn-esnt  upon  this 

hospicious  occasion,    Capting  S was  not  jellus  of  me  on  account 

of  my  fonner  attachment  to  liis  L;idy.  I  cunscnt^^d  that  my  Mary 
Hauu  should  attend  her,  and  me,  my  wife,  and  our  dear  babby  ac;iw- 
dingly  set  out  for  our  noable  fi-end's  residence,  Honeymoon  Lodge, 
near  Cheltenham. 

"  Sick  of  all  Kailroads  myself,  I  wisht  to  pxtst  it  in  a  Ghay  and 
4,  but  Mary  Hann,  witli  the  hobsttniacy  of  her  Sex,  was  Ixnit  upon 
Railroad  travelling,  and  I  ymlded,  like  all  hu>sbinds.  We  set  out 
by  the  Great  Westn,  in  an  eavle  Horn-. 

"We  tlidn't  take  much  luggitch  — my  wife's  things  in  the  ushal 
bandlx)xes — mine  in  a  i)otmancho.  Our  dear  little  James  Angelo's 
(called  so  in  complament  to  liis  noljle  Godmamma)  cnwldle,  and  a 
-small  su])ply  of  a  few  100  weight  of  Toi)sanl>awt*ms,  Fiirinasliious 
food,  and  Ladrs  lingers,  I'or  that  dear  child,  who  is  now  G  months 
old,  with  a  jierdidgus  appatite.  Likewise  we  were  charged  with 
a  bran  new  JMedsan  chest  for  my  Lady,  from  Skivary  &  Morris, 
containing  enough  rewl)ub.  Daffy's  Alixir,  Godfrey's  cawdle,  witli  a 
few  score  of  j)arsles  for  Lady  H!Uigelina'>s  family  -cUid  owsehold ; 
about  2000  spessymins  of  Babby  linning  from  Mrs.  Flummary's, 
in  Regent  Street,  a  Chayny  Cresning  Imwl  from  old  Lady  Bareacres 
(big  enough  to  immus  a  Haldennan),  &  a  case  marked  'Glass,'  from 
ber  Ladyship's  meddicle  man,  which  Avere  stowed  away  together; 


428  LETTERS    OF    JEAMES 

had  to  this  an  ormylew  Cradle,  with  rose-coloured  Sattiug  &  Pink  lace 
hangings,  held  up  by  a  gold  tuttle-tlove,  &c.  We  had,  ingluding 
James  Hangelo's  rattle  &.  ray  umbrellow,  73  packidges  in  all. 

"  We  got  on  very  well  as  far  as  Swindon,  where,  in  the  Splendid 
Refreshment  room,  there  was  a  galaxy  of  lovely  gals  in  cottn  velvet 
spencers,  who  serves  out  the  soop,  and  1  of  whom  «maid  an  im- 
presshn  upon  this  Art  which  I  shoodn't  like  Mary  Hann  to  know 
— and  here,  to  our  infanit  disgust,  we  changed  carridges.  I  forgot 
to  say  that  we  were  in  the  secknd  class,  having  with  us  James 
Hangelo,  and  23  other  liglit  hartieles. 

"  Fust  inconveniance ;  and  almost  as  bad  as  break  of  gage.  I 
cast  my  lu  ujwn  the  gal  in  cottn  velvet,  and  wanted  some  soop,  of 
coarse;  but  seasing  up  James  Hangelo  (who  was  layin  liis  dear 
little  pors  on  an  Am  Sangwidg)  and  seeing  my  igspresshn  of  hi — 
'  James,*  says  Mary  Hann,  '  instead  of  looking  at  that  young  lady 
— and  not  so  ven/  young,  neither- — be  pleased  to  look  to  our 
jjackidges,  &  place  them  in  the  other  caiTidge.'  I  did  so  with  an 
evy  Ai-t.  I  eranged  them  23  articles  in  the  opsit  earridg,  only 
missing  my  lunberella  &  baby's  rattle ;  and  jest  as  I  came  back  for 
my  bfiysn  of  soop,,  the  beast  of  a  bell  rings,  the  wliizzling  injians 
proclajTiis  the  time  of  our  departure, — &  farewell  soop  and  cottn 
velvet  Mary  Hann  was  sulky.  She  said  it  was;  my  Iceing  the 
imiberella.  If  it  had  been  a  cotton  velvet  umhetyiUa  I  could  have 
undei-stoocL  James  Hangelo  sittn  on  my  knee  was  evidently 
unwell ;  ■nathout  his  coral :  &  for  20  miles  that  blessid  babby  kep 
up  a  rawring,,  wliich  caused  all  the  passingers  to  siiapithize  with 
him  igseedingly. 

"We  arrive  at  Gloster,  and  there  fansy  my  disgust  at  bein 
ableeged  to  undergo  another  change  of  carridges  \  Fansy  me  hold- 
ing up  moughs,  tippits,,  cl(xiks,  and  baskits.  and  James  Hangelo 
rawring  still  like  mad,,  and  pretending  to  shuperintend  the:  carrying 
over  of  oiu^  lixggage  from  the  broad  gage  to  the  narrow  gage. 
'  Mary  Hann,'  says  I,  rot  to  desperation,  '  I  shall  tlxrottle  this 
darling  if  he  goes  on.'  'Do,'  says  she— 'and  go  into  the  refresh- 
ment ix)mn,*  says  she — -a  snatchin  the  babby  out  of  my  arms.  'Do 
go,'  says  she,  'youre  not  ilt  to  look  after  luggage,'  and  slie  began 
lulling  James  Hangelo  to  sleei>  with  one  hi,,  wMle  she  looked 
after  the  packets  with  the  other.  '  Xow,  sir !  if  you  please,  mind 
that  packet  [ — pretty  darling — easy  with  that  box,,  sir,  it's  glass — 
pooooty  ixrpjjet— Where's  the  deal  ease,  marked  arrowroot.  No.  241" 
she  cried,  reading  out  of  a  list  she  had. — And  poor  little  James, 
went  to  sleep.  The  porters  were  biuidling  and  carting  the  various 
hartieles  with  no  more  ceremony  than  if  each,  package  had  been,  of 
cannon-balL 


MR.   JEAMES    AGAIN  •  429 

"At  last — bang  goes  a  jiackage  iiiarked  'Glass,'  and  containing 
the  Cliayny  bowl  and  Lady  Bareacrcs'  mixture,  into  a  large  white 
bandbox,  with  a  crash  and  a  smash.  'It's  My  Lady's  box  from 
Crinoline's!'  cries  Mary  Hann  ;  and  she  puts  down  the  child  on 
the  bench,  and  rushes  forward  to  insi)cck  the  daniniidge.  You 
could  hear  the  Chayny  bowls  clinking  inside ;  and  Lady  B.'s 
mixture  (which  had  the  igsack  smell  of  cherry  brandy)  was 
<h-ibbling  out  over  the  smashed  bandl)OX  containing  a  white  child's 
cloak,  trimmed  with  Blown  lace  and  lined  Avith  white  satting. 

"As  James  was  asleep,  and  I  was  by  this  time  uncommon 
hungry,  I  thought  I  would  go  into  the  Refreshment  Room  and  just 
take  a  little  soup ;  so  I  wrapped  him  up  in  his  cloak  and  laid  him 
by  his  mamma,  and  went  off.  There's  not  near  such  good  attend- 
ance as  at  Swindon." 

"We  took  our  places  in  the  carriage  in  the  dark,  both  of 
us  covered  with  a  j)ile  of  packages,  and  Mary  Hann  so  sulky 
that  she  would  not  sjjeak  for  some  minutes.  At  last  she  spoke 
out — 

"  *  Have  you  all  the  small  parcels  1 ' 

"  '  Twenty-three  in  all,'  says  I. 

"  '  Then  give  me  baby.' 

"  '  Give  you  what  ? '  says  I. 

"  '  Give  me  baby.' 

"  '  What,  haven't  y-y-yoooo  got  him  ? '  says  I. 

"0  Mussy!  You  should  have  heard  her  sreak  !  We'd  left 
him  on  the  ledge  at  Gloster. 

"  It  all  came  of  tlie  break  of  gage." 


MR.   JEAMES   AGAIN 

-"'  Dear  Mk.  Punch, — As  newmarus  inquiries  have  been  maid 
both  at  my  privit  ressddence,  '  The  Wheel  of  Fortune  Otel,'  and  at' 
your  Hoffis,  regarding  the  ftxte  of  that  dear  babby,  James  Hangelo, 
whose  prianmiture  dissappearnts  caused  such  hagnies  to  his  distracted 
parents,  I  nmst  begg,  dear  Sir,  the  permission  to  ocku])y  a  part  of 
your  valuble  collams  once  more,  and  hease  the  public  mind  about 
my  blessid  boy. 

"  Wictims  of  that  nashnal  cuss,  the  Broken  Gage,  me  and  Mrs. 


430  •  LETTERS    OF    JEAMES 

Plush  was  left  in  the  train  to  Cheltenham,  soughring  from  that 
most  disagi'eeble  of  complaints,  a  halmost  brol-en  Art.  The 
skreems  of  Mrs.  Jeames  might  be  said  almost  to  out-Y  the  squeel  of 
the  dying,  as  we  nisht  into  that  foshnable  Spaw,  and  my  pore 
Mary  Hann  found  it  was  not  Baby,  but  Bundles  I  had  in  ray  lapp. 

"When  the  Old  Dowidger  Lady  BareacTes,  who  was  waiting 
heagerly  at  the  train,  herd  that  owing  to  that  abawminable  brake 
of  Gage  the  luggitch,  her  Ladyship's  Cherrybrandy  box,  the  cradle 
for  Lady  Hangelina's  baby,  the  lace,  crockary  and  chany,  was 
rejuiced  to  one  iramortial  smash  ;  the  old  cat  howld  at  me  and  pore 
dear  Mary  Hann,  as  if  it  was  iiuss,  and  not  the  infunnle  Brake  of 
Gagej  was  to  blame ;  and  as  if  we  ad  no  misfortns  of  our  hown  to 
deplaw.  She  bust  out  about  my  stupid  impareuce;  called  Mary 
Hann  a  good  for  nothink  creeclier,  and  wep,  and  abewsd,  and  took 
on  about  her  broken  Chayny  Bowl,  a  great  deal  mor  than  she  did 
about  a  dear  little  Christian  child.  '  Don't  talk  to  me  abowt  your 
bratt  of  a  babby  '  (seshe)  ;  '  wliere's  my  bowl  1  —  where's  my 
medsan  1 — where's  my  bewtiffle  Pint  lace  1 — All  in  rewins  througli 
your  stupiddaty,  you  brute,  you  !  ' 

"  '  Bring  your  haction  aginst  the  Great  Western,  Maam,'  says  I, 
quite  riled  by  tliis  crewel  and  unfealing  hold  wixen.  *  Ask  the 
])awters  at  Gloster,  why  your  goods  is  spiled — it's  not  the  fust  time 
they've  been  asked  the  question.  Git  the  gage  haltered  aginst  the 
nex  time  you  send  for  medsan — and  mean  wild  buy  some  at  the 
"  Plow" — they  keep  it  very  good  and  strong  there,  I'll  be  bound. 
Has  for  us,  ive^re  a  going  back  to  the  cussid  station  at  Glostei",  in 
such  of  our  blessid  child.' 

"'You  don't  mean  to  say,  young  woman,' seshe,  'that  you're 
not  going  to  Lady  Hangelina  :  what's  her  dear  boy  to  do  1  who's  to 
luiss  it  1 ' 

"  '  Yoio  nuss  it,  Maam,'  says  I.  '  Me  and  Mary  Hann  return 
this  momint  by  the  Fly.'  And  so  (whishmg  her  a  suckastic  ajew) 
]\Irs.  Jeames  and  I  lep  into  a  one  oss  weakle,  and  told  the  driver  to 
go  like  mad  back  to  Gloster. 

"I  can't  describe  my  pore  gals  hagny  juring  our  ride.  She  sat 
in  the  carridge  as  silent  as  a  milestone,  and  as  madd  as  a  march 
Air.  When  we  got  to  Gloster  she  sprang  hout  of  it  as  wild  as  a 
Tigris,  and  rusht  to  the  station,  up  to  the  fatle  Bench. 

'"My  child,  my  child,'  shreex  she,  in  a  boss  hot  voice. 
'  Where's  my  infant  1  a  little  bewtitle  child,  with  blue  eyes, — dear 
Mr.  Policeman,  give  it  me — a  thousand  giunea,s  for  it.' 

"  '  Faix,  Mam,'  says  the  man,  a  Hirishman,  '  and  the  divvle  a 
babby  have  I  seen  this  day  except  thirteen  of  my  own — and  you're 
welcome  to  any  one  of  them,  and  kindly.' 


ME.  JEAMES    AGAIN  431 

"  '  As  if  his  babbj"  was  equal  to  ours,'  as  iny  darling  Mary  Haun 
said,  afterwards.  All  the  station  was  scrouging  round  us  by  this 
time — pawters  &  clarx  and  refreshmint  people  and  all.  '  What's 
this  year  row  about  that  there  babljy  1 '  at  last  says  the  Inspector, 
stepping  hup.  I  thought  my  wife  was  going  to  jump  into  his  harms. 
'  Have  you  got  him  ? '  says  she. 

"  '  Was  it  a  child  in  a  blue  cloak  1 '  says  he. 

"  'And  blue  eyes  ! '  says  my  wife. 

"  '  I  put  a  label  on  him  and  sent  him  on  to  Bristol ;  he's  there 
by  this  time.  The  Guard  of  the  Mail  took  him  and  put  him  into 
a  letter-box,'  says  he :  '  he  went  20  minutes  ago.  We  found  him 
on  the  broad  gauge  line,  and  sent  him  on  by  it,  in  course,'  says  he. 
'  And  it'll  be  a  caution  to  you,  young  woman,  for  the  future,  to 
label  your  children  along  with  the  rest  of  your  luggage.' 

"  If  my  piguniary  means  had  been  such  as  once  they  was,  you 
may  emadgine  I'd  have  ad  a  speshle  train  and  been  hoff  like 
smoak.  As  it  was,  we  was  obliged  to  wait  4  mortial  hours 
for  the  next  train  (4  eara  they  seemed  to  us),  and  then  away  we 
went, 

"  '  My  boy  !  my  little  boy  ! '  says  poor  choking  Mary  Hann,  when 
we  got  there.  '  A  parcel  in  a  blue  cloak  ? '  says  the  man.  '  No 
body  claimed  him  here,  and  so  we  sent  him  back  by  the  mail.  An 
rish  nurse  here  gave  him  some  supper,  and  he's  at  Paddington  by 
his  time.  Yes,'  says  he,  looking  at  tlie  clock,  '  he's  been  there 
these  ten  minutes.' 

"  But  seeing  my  poor  wife's  distracted  histarricle  state,  this 
good-naterd  man  says,  '  I  think,  my  tlear,  tliere's  a  way  to  ease  your 
mind.     We'll  know  in  five  minutes  how  he  is.' 

"  *  Sir,'  says  she,  '  don't  make  sport  of  me.' 

"  '  No,  my  dear,  we'll  telegraph  him.' 

"  And  he  Ijegan  hopparating  on  that  singular  and  ingenus 
elecktricle  inwention,  which  aniliates  time,  and  carries  intellagence 
in  the  twinkling  of  a  peg-post. 

"  '  I'll  ask,'  says  he,  for  child  marked  G.  W.  273.' 

"  Back  comes  tlie  telegi-aph  with  the  sigai  '  All  right.' 

"  '  Ask  what  he's  doing,  sir,'  says  my  wife,  quite  amazed.  Back 
comes  the  answer  in  a  Jitfy — 

"   C.R.Y.I.N.G.' 

"This  caused  all  the  bystanders  to  laugh  excep  my  pore  Mary 
Hann,  who  pidl'd  a  very  sad  face. 

"The  good-naterd  feller  presently  said,  'he'd  have  another  trile;' 
and  what  d'ye  think  Avas  the  answer  %     I'm  blest  if  it  wasn't — 

" '  P.A.P.' 
'  He  was  eating  pap !     There's  for  you — there's  a  rogue  for 


(( 


432  LETTERS    OF    JEAMES 

you — there's  a  March  of  lutaleck  !  Mary  Hami  smiled  now  for 
the  fiist  time.  '  He'll  sleep  now,'  says  sire.  And  she  sat  down 
with  a  full  hart. 

"  If  hever  that  good-naterd  Shooperintendent  comes  to  London, 
he  need  never  ask  for  his  skore  at  the  '  Wheel  of  Fortune  Otel,'  I 
promise  you— where  me  and  my  wife  and  James  Hangelo  now  is ; 
and  where  only  yesterday  a  gent  came  in  and  drew  a  pictur  of  us 
in  our  bar. 

"  And  if  they  go  on  breaking  gages ;  and  if  the  child,  the  most 
precious  luggidge  of  the  Henglishraan,  is  to  be  bundled  about  this 
year  way,  why  it  won't  be  for  want  of  warning,  both  from  Professor 
Harris,  the  Commission,  and  from  my  dear  Mr.  Punch's  obeajent 
servant,  Jeames  Plush." 


A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE 


LEGEND    OF   THE    RHINE 

CHAPTER   1 

SIR  LUDIVIG  OF  HOMBOURG 

IT  was  in  the  good  old  days  of  chivalry,  when  every  mountain 
that  bathes  its  shadow  in  the  Rhine  had  its  castle  :  not  in- 
habited, as  now,  by  a  few  rats  and  owls,  nor  covered  with  moss 
and  wallflowers,  and  funguses^  and  creeping  ivy.  No,  no  !  where 
the  ivy  now  clusters  there  grew  strong  portcullis  and  bars  of  steel ; 
where  the  wallflower  now  quivers  on  the  rampart  there  were  silken 
banners  embroidered  with  wonderful  heraldry  ;  men-at-arms  marched 
where  now  you  shall  only  see  a  bank  of  moss  or  a  hideous  black 
champignon ;  and  in  place  of  the  rats  and  owlets,  I  warrant  me 
tliere  were  ladies  and  knights  to  revel  in  the  great  halls,  and  to 
feast,  and  to  dance,  and  to  make  love  there.  They  are  passed 
away: — those  old  knights  and  ladies:  their  golden  hair  first  changed 
to  silver,  and  then  the  silver  dropjied  oft"  and  disappeared  for  ever ; 
their  elegant  legs,  so  slim  and  active  in  the  dance,  became  swollen 
and  gouty,  and  then,  from  being  swollen  and  gouty,  dwindled  down 
to  bare  bone-shanks ;  tlie  roses  left  their  cheeks,  and  then  their 
cheeks  disappeared,  and  left  their  skulls,  and  then  their  skulls 
powdered  into  dust,  and  all  sign  of  them  was  gone.  And  as  it  was 
with  them,  so  shall  it  be  with  us.  Ho,  seneschal !  fill  me  a  cup  of 
liquor  !  put  sugar  in  it,  good  fellow — yea,  and  a  little  hot  water  ;  a 
very  little,  for  my  soul  is  sad,  as  I  think  of  those  days  and  knights 
of  old. 

They,  too,  have  revelled  and  feasted,  and  where  are  they"? — 
gone?— nay,  not  altogether  gone;  for  doth  not  the  eye  catch  glimpses 
of  them  as  they  walk  yonder  in  the  grey  limbo  of  romance,  shining 
faintly  in  their  coats  of  steel,  wandering  by  the  side  of  long-haired 
ladies,  with  long-tailed  gowns  that  little  pages  carry  1  Yes  !  one 
sees  them  :  the  poet  sees  them  still  in  the  far-off"  Cloudlaud,  and 
hears  the  ring  of  their  clarions  as  they  hasten  to  battle  or  tourney — 


436  A   LEGEND    OF    THE    RHIXE 

aud  the  dim  echoes  of  their  kites  chanting  of  love  and  fair  ladies  \ 
Gracious  privilege  of  poesy  !  It  is  as  the  Dervish's  collyrium  to  the 
eyes,  and  causes  them  to  see  treasures  that  to  the  sight'  of  donkeys 
are  invisible.  Blessed  treasures  of  fancy  !  I  would  not  change  ye 
— no,  not  for  many  donkey-loads  of  gold.  .  .  .  Fill  again,  jolly 
seneschal,  thou  brave  wag ;  chalk  me  up  the  produce  on  the  hostel 
door — surely  the  spirits  of  old  arc  mixed  up  in  the  wondrous  liquor, 
and  gentle  visions  of  bygone  princes  and  princesses  look  blandly 
down  on  us  from  the  cloudy  perfume  of  the  ppe.  Do  you  know  in 
what  year  the  fairies  left  the  Rhine? — long  before  Murray's  "Guide- 
Book"  was  wrote — long  before  squat  steamboats,  Mnth  snorting 
funnels,  came  paddling  down  the  stream.  Do  you  not  know  that 
once  upon  a  time  the  appearance  of  eleven  thousand  British  virgins 
was  considered  at  Cologne  as  a  wonder  1  Now  there  come  twenty 
thousand  such  annually,  accompanied  by  their  ladies'-maids.  But 
of  them  we  will  say  no  more — let  us  back  to  those  who  went  before 
them. 

Many  many  hundred  thousand  years  ago,  and  at  the  exact  period 
when  chivalry  was  in  full  l.loom,  there  occurred  a  little  history  upon 
the  banks  of  the  Rhine,  which  has  been  already  written  in  a  book, 
and  hence  must  he  po.sitivcly  true.  'Tis  a  story  of  knights  and 
ladies — of  lovo  and  battle,  and  virtue  rewarded ;  a  story  of  princes 
and  noble  lords,  moreover :  the  best  of  company.  Gentles,  an  ye 
will,  ye  shall  hoar  it.  Fair  dames  and  damsels,  may  your  loves.be 
as  happy  as  those  of  the  heroine  of  this  romaunt. 

On  the  cold  and  rainy  evening  of  Thursday,  the  26th  of  October, 
in  the  year  previously  indicated,  such  travellers  as  might  have  chanced 
to  be  abroad  in  that  bitter  night,  might  have  remarked  a  fellow- 
wayfarer  journeying  on  the  road  from  Oberwintcr  to  Godesberg.  He 
was  a  man  not  tall  in  stature,  but  of  the  most  athletic  proportions, 
and  Time,  which  had  browned  and  furrowed  his  cheek  and  sprinkled 
his  locks  with  grey,  declared  pretty  clearly  that  He  must  have  been 
acquainted  with  the  warrior  for  some  fifty  good  y^ars.  He  wa.s  armed 
in  mail,  and  rode  a  powerful  and  active  battle-horse,  which  (though 
the  way  the  pair  had  come  that  day  was  long  and  weary  indeed) 
yet  supported  the  warrior,  his  armour  aud  luggage,  with  seeming 
ease.  As  it  was  in  a  friend's  country,  the  knight  did  not  tliink  fit 
to  wear  his  heavy  destrier,  or  helmet,  which  hung  at  his  saddle-bow 
over  his  portmanteau.  Both  were  marked  with  the  coronet  of  a 
count ;  and  from  the  crown  which  surmounted  the  helmet,  rose  the 
crest  of  his  knightly  race,  an  arm  proper  lifting  a  naked  sword. 

At  his  right  hand,  and  convenient  to  the  warrior's  grasp,  hung  his 
mangonel  or  mace — a  terrific  weapon  which  had  shattered  the  brains 
of  many  a  turbancd  soldan  :  while  over  his  broad  and  ample  chest 


SIR    LUDWIG    OF    HOMBOURG  437 

there  fell  the  triangular  shield  of  the  period,  whereon  were  emldaz- 
oned  his  arms — argent,  a  gules  wavy,  on  a  saltire  reversed  of  the 
second  :  the  latter  device  was  awarded  for  a  daring  exploit  before 
Ascalon,  by  the  Emperor  Maximilian,  and  a  reference  to  the  German 
Peerage  of  that  day,  or  a  knowledge  of  high  families  which  every 
gentleman  then  possessed,  would  have  sufficed  to  show  at  once  that 
the  rider  we  have  described  was  of  the  noble  house  of  Hombourg. 
It  was,  in  fact,  the  gallant  knight  Sir  Ludwig  of  Hombourg :  his 
rank  as  a  count,  and  chamberlain  of  the  Emperor  of  Austria,  Avas 
marked  by  the  cap  of  maintenance  with  the  jieacock's  feather  which 
he  wore  (when  not  armed  for  battle),  and  his  princely  blood  was 
denoted  by  the  oiled  silk  umbrella  which  he  carried  (a  very  meet 
I)rotection  against  the  pitiless  storm),  and  which,  as  it  is  known,  in 
the  middle  ages,  none  but  princes  were  justified  in  using.  A  bag, 
fastened  with  a  brazen  i)adlock,  and  made  of  the  costly  produce  of 
the  Persian  looms  (then  extremely  rare  in  Europe),  told  that  he  had 
travelled  in  Eastern  climes.  This,  too,  was  evident  from  the  inscrip- 
tion writ  on  card  or  parchment,  and  se\ved  on  the  bag.  It  first  ran, 
"  Count  Ludwig  de  Hombom'g,  Jerusalem  ; "  but  the  name  of  the 
Holy  City  had  been  dashed  out  with  the  pen,  and  that  of  "  Godes- 
berg  "  substituted.  So  far  indeed  had  the  cavalier  travelled  ! — and 
it  is  needless  to  state  that  the  bag  in  question  contained  such  remain- 
ing articles  of  the  toilet  as  the  high-born  nol>le  deemed  lumecessary 
to  place  in  his  valise. 

"  By  Saint  Bugo  of  Katzenellenbogen  !  "  said  the  good  knight, 
shivering,  "  'tis  colder  here  than  at  Damascus  !  Marry,  I  am  so 
hungry  I  could  eat  one  of  Saladin's  camels.  Shall  I  be  at  Godesberg 
in  time  for  dinner  1 "  And  taking  out  his  horologe  (which  hung  in 
a  small  side-pocket  of  his  embroidered  surcoat),  the  crusader  consoled 
himself  by  finding  that  it  was  but  seven  of  the  night,  and  that  he 
would  reach  Godesberg  ei-e  the  warder  had  sounded  the  second  gong. 

His  opinion  was  borne. out  by  the  result.  His  good  steed,  which 
could  trot  at  a  pinch  fourteen  leagues  in  the  hour,  brought  him  to 
this  fomous  castle,  just  as  the  warder  was  giving  the  first  Avelcome 
signal  which  told  that  the  princely  family  of  Count  Karl,  Margrave 
of  Godesberg,  were  about  to  prepare  for  their  usual  rejiast  at  eight 
o'clock.  Crowds  of  pages  and  horsekeepers  were  in  the  court,  when, 
the  portcullis  being  raised,  and  amidst  the  respectful  salutes  of  the 
sentinels,  the  most  ancient  friend  of  the  house  of  Godesberg  entered 
into  its  castle-yard.  The  under-butler  stepjied  forward  to  take  his 
bridle-rein,  "  Welcome,  Sir  Count,  from  the  Holy  Land  !  "  exclaimed 
the  faithful  old  man.  "  Welcome,  Sir  Count,  from  the  Holy  Land  !  " 
cried  the  rest  of  the  servants  in  the  hall.  A  stable  was  speedily 
found  for  the  Count's  horse,  Streithsngst,  and  it  was  not  Ijefore  the 


438  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE 

gallant  soldier  had  seen  that  true  animal  well  cared  for,  that  he 
entered  the  castle  itself,  and  was  conducted  to  his  chamber.  Wax 
candles  bui-ning  bright  on  the  mantel,  flowers  in  china  vases,  every 
variety  of  soap,  and  a  flask  of  the  precious  essence  manufactured  at 
the  neighbouring  city  of  Cologne,  were  displayed  on  his  toilet-table  ; 
a  cheering  fire  "  crackled  on  the  hearth,"  and  showed  that  the  good 
knight's  coming  had  been  looked  and  cared  for.  The  serving-maidens, 
bringing  him  hot  water  for  his  ablutions,  smiling  asked,  "  Would  he 
have  his  couch  warmed  at  eve  1 "  One  might  have  been  sure  from 
their  blushes  that  the  tough  old  soldier  made  an  arch  reply.  The 
family  tonsor  came  to  know  whether  the  noble  Count  had  need  of 
his  skill.  "  By  Saint  Bugo,"  said  the  knight,  as  seated  in  an  easy 
settle  by  the  fire,  the  tonsor  rid  his  chin  of  its  stubbly  growth,  and 
lightly  passed  the  tongs  and  pomatum  through  "  the  sable  silver  "  of 
his  hair,- — "  By  Saint  Bugo,  this  is  better  than  my  dungeon  at  Grand 
Cairo.  How  is  my  godson  Otto,  master  barber;  and  the  Lady 
Countess,  his  mother ;  and  the  noble  Count  Karl,  my  dear  brother- 
in-arms  1 " 

"  They  are  well,"  said  the  tonsor,  with  a  sigh. 

"  By  Saiftt  Bugo,  I'm  glad  on't ;  but  why  that  sigh  1 " 

"  Things  are  not  as  they  have  been  with  my  good  lord,"  answered 
the  hairdresser,  "  ever  since  Count  Gottfried's  arrival." 

"  He  here  !  "  roared  Sir  Ludwig.  "  Good  never  came  where 
Gottfried  was  ! "  and  the  while  he  donned  a  pair  of  silken  hose, 
that  showed  admirably  the  proportions  of  his  lower  limbs,  and 
exchanged  his  coat  of  mail  for  the  spotless  vest  and  black  surcoat 
collared  with  velvet  of  Genoa,  which  was  the  fitting  costume  for 
"knight  in  ladye's  bower, "^the  knight  entered  into  a  conversation 
with  the  barber,  who  explained  to  him,  with  the  usual  garrulous- 
ness  of  his  tribe,  what  was  the  present  position  of  the  noble  family 
of  Godesberg. 

This  will  be  narrated  in  the  next  chapter. 


CHAPTER    II 

THE    GODESBERGERS 

TIS  needless  to  state  that  the  gallant  warrior  Ludwig  of  Horn- 
bourg  found  in  the  bosom  of  his  friend's  family  a  cordial 
welcome.  The  brother-iu-arms  of  the  Margrave  Karl,  he 
was  the  esteemed  friend  of  the  Margravine,  the  exalted  and  beau- 
tiful Theodora  of  Boppum,  and  (albeit  no  theologian,  and  although 
the  first  princes  of  Christendom  coveted  sucli  an  honour)  he  was 
selected  to  stand  as  sponsor  for  the  Margrave's  son  Otto,  the  only 
child  of  his  house. 

It  was  now  seventeen  years  since  the  Count  and  Countess  had 
been  united  :  and  although  Heaven  had  not  blessed  their  couch  with 
more  than  one  child,  it  may  be  said  of  that  one  that  it  was  a  prize, 
and  that  surely  never  lighted  on  the  earth  a  more  delightful  vision. 
When  Count  Ludwig,  hastening  to  the  holy  wars,  had  quitted  his 
beloved  godchild,  he  had  left  him  a  boy ;  he  now  found  him,  as  the 
latter  rushed  into  his  arms,  grown  to  be  one  of  the  finest  young  men 
in  Germany :  tall  and  excessively  graceful  in  proportion,  with  the 
blush  of  health  mantling  upon  his  cheek,  that  was  likewise  adorned 
with  the  first  down  of  manhood,  and  with  magnificent  gijlden  ringlets, 
such  as  a  Rowland  might  envy,  curling  over  his  brow  and  his 
shoulders.  His  eyes  alternately  beamed  with  the  fire  of  daring, 
or  melted  with  the  moist  glance  of  benevolence.  Well  might  a 
mother  be  proud  of  such  a  boy.  Well  might  the  brave  Ludwig 
exclaim,  as  he  clasped  the  youth  to  his  breast,  "  By  Saint  Bugo  of 
Katzenellenbogen,  Otto,  thou  art  fit  to  be  one  of  Cceur  de  Lion's 
grenadiers ! "  and  it  was  the  fact :  the  "  Childe "  of  Godesberg 
measured  six  feet  three. 

He  was  habited  for  the  evening  meal  in  the  costly  though  simple 
attire  of  the  nobleman  of  the  period — and  his  costume  a  good  deal 
resend)led  that  of  the  old  knight  whuse  toilet  we  have  just  described  ; 
with  the  difierence  of  colour,  however.  The  pourpoint  worn  by 
young  Otto  of  Godesberg  was  of  blue,  handsomely  decorated  with 
buttons  of  carved  and  embossed  gold ;  his  haut-de-chausses,  or 
leggings,  were  of  the  stuff'  of  Nanquin,  then  brought  by  the  Lom- 
bard argosies  at  an  immense  price  from  China.     The  neighbouring 


440  A   LEGEND    OF    THE    RHIXE 

country  of  Holland  had  supplied  his  wrists  and  bosom  with  the 
most  costly  laces;  and  thus  attired,  with  an  opera-hat  placed  on 
one  side  of  his  head,  ornamented  with  a  single  flower  (that  brilliant 
one,  the  tulip),  the  boy  rushed  into  his  godfather's  dressing-room, 
and  warned  him  that  the  banquet  was  ready. 

It  was  indeed :  a  frown  had  gathered  on  the  dark  brows  of  the 
Lady  Theodora,  and  her  bosom  heaved  with  an  emotion  akin  to 
indignation ;  for  she  feared  lest  the  soups  in  the  refectory  and  the 
si)]eii(lid  fish  now  smoking  there  were  getting  cold  :  she  feared  not 
for  herself,  but  for  her  lord's  sake.  "  Godesberg,"  whispered  she  to 
Count  Ludwig,  as  trembling  on  his  arm  they  descended  from  the 
drawing-room,  "  Godesberg  is  sadly  changed  of  late." 

"By  Saint  Bugo ! "  said  the  burly  knight,  starting,  "these  are 
the  very  words  the  barber  si)ake." 

The  lady  heaved  a  sigh,  and  placed  herself  before  the  soup- 
tureen.  For  some  time  tlie  good  Knight  Ludwig  of  Hombourg  was 
too  much  occupied  in  ladling  out  the  forcemeat  l)alls  and  rirh  calves' 
head  of  which  the  delicious  pottuge  was  formed  (in  lailling  them 
out,  did  we  say?  ay,  marry,  and  in  eating  them,  too)  to  look  at 
his  brother-in-arms  at  the  bottom  of  the  table,  Avhere  he  sat  witii 
his  son  on  his  left  hand,  and  the  Baron  Gottfried  on  his  right. 

The  Margrave  was  indeed  changed.  "  By  Saint  Bugo,"  whispered 
Ludwig  to  the  Countess,  "your  husband  is  as  surly  as  a  l>ear  that 
hath  been  wounded  o'  the  head."  Tears  falling  into  her  soup-jilatc 
were  her  only  reply.  The  soup,  the  turbot,  the  haunch  of  mutton, 
Count  Ludwig  remarked  that  the  j\Lirgrave  sent  all  away  un- 
tasted. 

"  The  boteler  will  serve  ye  with  wine,  Hombourg,"  said  the  Mar- 
grave gloomily  from  the  end  of  the  table.  Not  even  an  invitation 
to  drink  :  how  different  was  this  from  tlie  old  times ! 

But  when,  in  comi)liance  with  this  order,  tlie  boteler  liroceeded 
to  hand  round  the  mantling  vintage  of  the  Cai)e  to  the  a.ssembled 
party,  and  to  fill  young  Otto's  goblet  (which  the  latter  held  up  with 
the  eagerness  of  youth),  the  Margrave's  rage  knew  no  bounds. 
He  rushed  at  his  son ;  he  dashed  the  wine-cup  over  his  spotless 
vest ;  and  giving  him  three  or  four  heavy  blows  which  would  have 
Iv nocked  down  a  bonassus,  but  only  caused  the  young  Childe  to 
blush  :  "  You  take  wine  ! "  roared  out  the  Margrave ;  "  pmi  dare 
to  help  yourself!  Who  the  d-v-1  gave  you  leave  to  help  your- 
self?" and  the  terrible  blows  were  reiterated  over  the  delicate  ears 
of  the  boy. 

"  Ludwig  !  Ludwig  !  "  shrieked  the  Margravine. 

"  Hold  your  prate,  madam,"  roared  tlie  Prince.  "  By  Saint 
Buflb,  mayn't  a  father  beat  his  own  child  1 " 


THE    GODESBERGERS  441 

"  His  own  child  !  "  repeated  tlie  Margrave  ^Yitll  a  lnu\st,  almost 
a  shriek,  of  indescribaVtle  agony.      "Ah,  Mhat  did  I  say?" 

Sir  Ludwig  looked  about  him  in  amaze ;  Sir  Gottfried  (at  the 
Margrave's  right  hand)  smiled  ghastlily ;  the  young  Otto  "was  tot) 
much  agitated  by  the  recent  conflict  to  wear  any  expression  hut 
that  of  extreme  discomfiture ;  hut  the  poor  Margravine  turned  her 
head  aside  and  blushed,  red  almost  as  the  lobster  which  flanked  the 
turbot  before  her. 

In  those  rude  old  times,  'tis  known  such  table  (piarrels  were  by 
no  means  luuisual  amongst  gallant  knights  ;  and  Ludwig,  who  had 
oft  seen  the  Margrave  cast  a  leg  of  mutton  at  an  ofl'ending  servitor, 
or  emj^ty  a  sauce-boat  in  the  direction  of  the  Margravine,  thought 
this  was  but  one  of  the  usual  outbreaks  of  his  wortiiy  though 
irascible  friend,  and  wisely  determined  to  change  the  converse. 

"  How  is  my  friend,"  said  he,  "  the  good  knight,  Sir  Hilde- 
bran.lt  J " 

"By  Saint  Buttb,  this  is  too  nuich  ! "  screamed  the  Margrave, 
and  actually  rushed  from  the  room. 

"By  Saint  Bugo,"  said  his  friend,  "gallant  knights,  gentle  sirs, 
what  ails  my  good  Lord  Margrave?" 

"  Perhaps  his  nose  bleeds,"  said  Gottfried  with  a.  sn(>er. 

"  Ah,  my  kind  friend,"  said  the  Margravine  with  uncontrollable 
emotion,  "  I  fear  some  of  you  have  passe<l  from  the  frying-pan  into 
the  fire."  And  making  the  signal  of  departure  to  tlie  ladies,  they 
rose  and  retired  to  cofl'ce  in  the  drawing-room. 

The  Margrave  presently  came  back  again,  somewhat  more 
collected  than,  he  had  been.  "  Otto,"  he  said  st(>rnly,  "  go  join  the 
ladies  :  it  becomes  not  a  young  boy  to  remain  in  the  company  of 
gallant  knights  after  dinner."  The  noble  Childe  Avith  manifest 
unwillingness  quitted  the  room,  and  the  Margrave,  taking  his  lady's 
jtlace  at  the  head  of  the  table,  whispered  to  Sir  Ludwig,  "  Hilde- 
brandt  will  be  here  to-night  to  an  evening  jtarty,  given  in  honom-  of 
your  return  ii-om  Palestine.  My  good  friend— my  true  friend — my 
old  companion  in  arms,  Sir  Gottfried  !  you  had  best  see  that  the 
fiddlers  be  not  drunk,  and  that  the  crum])ets  be  gotten  ready."  Sir 
Gottfried,  obsequiously  taking  his  patron's  hint,  bowed  and  left  the 
room. 

"  You  shall  know  all  soon,  dear  Ludwig,"  said  the  Margrave 
with  a  heartrending  look.  "You  marked  Gottfried,  who  Icit  the 
room  anon  1 " 

"I  did." 

"  Y.-»u  look  incredulous  concerning  his  worth ;  but  I  tell  thee, 
Ludwig,  that  yonder  Gottfried  is  a  good  fellow,  and  my  fast  friend. 
Why  should   he    not    be?     He  is  my   near   relation,    licir   to   my 


442  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHIXE 

property :  should  I "  (here  the  Margrave's  oonntenauoe  assiimed  its 
former  expression  of  excruciating  agony), — "  should  I  have  no  son." 

"But  I  never  saw  the  boy  in  better  health,"  replied  Sir 
Ludwig. 

"  Nevertheless, — ha  !  ha  I — it  may  chance  tliat  I  shall  soon 
have  no  son." 

The  Margrave  had  crushed  many  a  cup  of  wine  during  dinner,, 
and  Sir  Ludwig  thought  naturally  tliat  his  gallant  friend  had 
drunken  rather  deeply.  He  proceeded  in  this  respect  to  imitate 
liim  ;  for  the  stern  soldier  of  those  days  neither  shnmk  before  the 
PajTiim  nor  the  punch-bowl :  and  many  a  rousing  night  had  our 
crusader  enjoyed  in  Syria  with  lion-hearted  Eichard ;  with  his 
coadjutor,  Godfrey  of  BoiuUon ;  nay,  with  the  daimtless  Saladiu 
himself 

"  You  knew  Gottfried  in  Palestine  1 "  asked  the  Margrave. 

"  I  did." 

"Why  did  ye  not  gi'eet  hira  then,  as  ancient  comrades  should, 
with  the  warm  gi-asp  of  friendship  1  It  is  not  because  Sir  Gottfried 
is  poor  ?  You  know  well  tliat  he  is  of  race  as  noble  as  thine  own, 
my  early  friend  !  " 

"  I  care  not  for  his  race  nor  for  his  poverty,"  replied  the  blunt 
crusader.  "  Wliat  says  the  Minnesinger  ?  ]\Iarrv,  the  rank  is  but 
the  stamp  of  tlie  guinea ;  the  man  is  the  gold.'  And  I  tell  thee, 
Karl  of  Godesberg,  that  yonder  Gottfried  is  base  metal." 

"  By  Saint  Buffo,  thou  behest  him,  dear  Ludwig." 

"  By  Saint  Bugo,  dear  Karl, '  I  say  sooth.  The  fellow  was 
known  i'  the  camp  of  the  crusadei-s — disreputably  known.  Ere 
he  joined  us  in  Palestine,  he  had  sojourned  in  Constantinople,  and 
learned  the  arts  of  the  Greek.  He  is  a  cogger  of  dice,  I  tell  thee — 
a  chanter  of  horsetiesh.  He  won  five  thousand  marks  from  bluff 
Richard  of  England  the  night  before  the  storming  of  Ascalon,  and  I 
caught  him  with  false  trumps  in  liis  jiocket.  He  warranted  a  bay 
mare  to  Conrad  of  Mont  Serrat,  and  the  rogue  had  tired  her." 

"Ha!  mean  jc  tliat  Sir  Gottti-ied  is  a  leg?"  cried  Sir  Karl, 
knitting  his  brows.  "  Now,  by  my  blessed  patron,  Saint  Buffo  of 
Bonn,  had  any  other  but  Lutlwig  of  Homboitrg  so  said,  I  would  have 
cloven  him  from  skull  to  chine." 

"  By  Saint  Bugo  of  Katzenellenbogen,  I  will  prove  my  words  on 
Sir  Gottfried's  body — not  on  thine,  old  brother-in-arms.  And  to  do 
the  knave  justice,  he  is  a  good  lance.  Holy  Bugo  I  but  he  lUd  good 
service  at  Acre  !  But  his  character  was  such  that,  spite  of  his 
bravery,  he  was  dismissed  the  army ;  nor  even  allowed  to  sell  his 
captain's  commission." 

"I  have  heard  of  it,"  said  the  Margrave;  "Gottfried  hath  told 


THE    GODESBERGERS  443 

me  of  it.  'Twas  about  some  silly  quarrel  over  the  "vdne-cup — a  mere 
silly  jape,  believe  me.  Hugo  de  Brodenel  would  have  no  black  bottle 
on  the  board.  Gottfried  was  wroth,  and,  to  say  sooth,  flung  the  black 
bottle  at  the  Count's  head.  Hence  his  dismission  and  abrupt  return. 
But  you  know  not,"  continued  the  Margrave,  with  a  heavy  sigh,  "of 
what  use  that  worthy  Gottfried  has  been  to  me.  He  has  uncloaked 
a  traitor  to  me." 

"  Not  yet"  answered  Hombourg  satirically. 

"  By  Saint  Buffo  !  a  dee^vdyed  dastard  I  a  dangerous  damnable 
traitor  ! — a  nest  of  traitors.  Hildebrandt  is  a  traitor — Otto  is  a 
traitor — and  Theodora  (0  Heaven  !)  she— she  is  another."  The  old 
Prince  burst  into  tears  at  the  word,  and  was  almost  choked  witli 
emotion. 

"  What  means  this  passion,  dear  friend  1 "  cried  Sir  Ludwig, 
seriously  alarmed. 

"  Mark,  Ludwig !  mark  Hildebrandt  and  Theodora  together : 
mark  Hildebrandt  and  Otto  together.  Like,  like  I  tell  thee  as  two 
peas,  0  holy  saints,  that  I  should  be  born  to  suffer  this  ! — to  have 
all  my  affections  wrenched  out  of  my  bosom,  and  to  be  left  alcme  in 
my  old  age  !  But,  hark  I  the  guests  are  arriving.  An  ye  will  not 
empty  another  flask  of  claret,  let  as  join  the  ladyes  i'  the  withdraw- 
ing chamber.     When  there,  mark  Hildebrandt  and  Otto  !  " 


CHAPTER    III 

THE  FESTIVAL 

THE  festival  was  indeed  begun.  Coming  on  liorseback,  or  in 
their  caioches,  knights  an<l  ladies  of  the  highest  rank  were 
assembled  in  the  grand  saloon  of  Godesberg,  whieh  was  sjilen- 
didly  illuminated  to  receive  them.  Ser\-itors,  in  rich  liveries  (they 
were  attired  in  doublets  of  the  sky-blue  broadcloth  of  Ypres,  and 
hose  of  the  richest  yellow  samndt — the  colours  of  the  house  of 
Godesberg),  bore  about  various  refreshments  on  trays  of  silver — 
cakes,  baked  in  the  oven,  and  swimming  in  melted  butter;  munchets 
of  bread,  smeared  with  the  same  delicious  condiment,  and  cars-eil  so 
thin  that  you  nught  liave  expected  them  to  take  wing  and  Hy  to  the 
ceiling ;  cotfee,  introduceil  by  Peter  the  Hermit,  after  his  excureion 
into  Arabia,  and  tea  such  as  only  Bohemia  coidd  pn^duce,  circulate*! 
amidst  the  festive  throng,  and  were  eagerly  devoured  by  the  guests. 
The  Mar'Tave's  gloom  was  unheeded  bv  them — how  little  indeed  is 
the  smiling  crowd  aware  of  the  pangs  that  are  Inrking  in  the  breasts 
of  those  who  bid  them  to  the  fea.st !  The  MarL,Tavine  was  pale  ;  Imt 
woman  knows  how  to  deceive;  she  was  more  than  ordinarily  courteous 
to  her  friends,  and  laughed,  though  the  laugh  was  hollow;  and  talked, 
though  the  talk  was  loathsome  to  her. 

"The  two  arc  together,"  said  tlie  Margrave,  clutching  his 
friend's  shoulder.      "  Xoir  look  !  " 

Sir  Ludwig  turned  towards  a  qua<lrille,  and  there,  sure  enough, 
were  Sir  Hildebrandt  and  young  Otto  st;inding  side  by  side  in 
the  dance.  Two  eggs  were  not  more  like  I  The  reason  of  the 
Margrave's  horrid  suspicion  at  once  flashed  across  his  friend's 
mind. 

"  Tis  clear  as  the  statf  of  a  pike,"  said  the  po4ir  ^largrave 
mournfully.  "  Come,  brother,  away  from  the  scene  ;  let  us  go  play 
a  game  at  cribbage  !  "  and  retiring  to  the  Margravine's  boudoir,  the 
two  warriors  sat  down  to  the  game. 

But  though  'tis  an  interesting  one,  and  though  the  Margrave 
won,  yet  he  could  not  keep  his  attentiim  on  the  cards :  so  agitated 
was  his  mind  by  the  dreadful  secret  which  weighed  upon  it.  In 
the  midst  of  their  play,  the  obsequious  Gottfried  came  to  whisper  a 


THE    FESTIVAL  -i45 

word  ill  his  patron's  ear,  wliich  threw  the  latter  into  snch  a  fury, 
that  apoplexy  was  apprehended  by  the  two  lookers-on.  But  the 
Margrave  mastered  his  emotion.  "At  what  time,  did  you  say?" 
said  he  to  Gottfried. 

"  At  daybreak,  at  the  outer  gate." 

"  I  will'be  there." 

"And  so  v.'ill  I  too"  thought  Count  Lud^\^g,  tlie  good  Knight 
of  Homboiirg. 


CHAPTER   IV 

THE  FLIGHT 

HOW  often  does  man,  proud  man,  make  calculations  for  tlie 
future,  and  think  he  can  bend  stern  fate  to  his  will !  Alas, 
Ave  are  but  creatures  in  its  hands !  How  many  a  slij) 
between  the  lip  and  the  lifted  wine-cup !  How  often,  thoujrh 
seemingly  with  a  choice  of  couclies  to  repose  upon,  do  we  find  our- 
selves dashed  to  earth ;  and  then  we  are  fain  to  say  the  grapes  are 
sour,  because  we  cannot  attain  them ;  or  worse,  to  yield  to  anger  in 
consequence  of  our  own  fault.  Sir  Ludwig,  the  Hombourger,  was 
not  at  the  outer  gate  at  daybreak. 

He  slept  until  ten  of  the  clock.  The  previous  night's  potations 
had  been  heavy,  the  day's  journey  had  been  long  and  rough.  The 
knight  slept  as  a  soldier  would,  to  whom  a  feather  bed  is  a  rarity, 
and  who  wakes  not  till  he  hears  the  blast  of  the  r^veilld. 

He  looked  up  as  he  woke.  At  his  bedside  sat  the  Margrave. 
He  had  been  there  for  hours  watching  his  slumbering  comrade. 
Watching  1 — no,  not  watching,  but  awake  by  his  side,  'l>roo(ling  over 
thoughts  unutterably  bitter — over  feelings  inexpressibly  wretched. 

"  What's  o'clock  1 "  was  the  first  natural  exclamation  of  the 
Homlxnirger. 

"  I  believe  it  is  five  o'clock,"  said  his  friend.  It  was  ten.  It 
might  have  been  twelve,  two,  half-past  four,  twenty  minutes  to  six, 
tlie  Margrave  would  still  hhve  said,  "  /  hdieve  it  is  Jive  o'clock." 
The  wretched  take  no  count  of  time  :  it  flies  with  unequal  pinions, 
indeed,  for  them. 

"  Is  breakfast  over  ?  "  inquired  the  crusader. 

"  Ask  the  butler,"  said  the  jMargrave,  nodding  his  head  wildly, 
rolling  his  eyes  v.'ildly,  smiling  wildly. 

"Gracious  Bugo ! "  said  the  Knight  of  Hombourg,  "what  has 
ailed  thee,  my  friend  ?  It  is  ten  o'clock  by  my  horologe.  Your 
regular  hour  is  nine.  You  are  not — no,  by  heavens  !  you  are  not 
shaved !  You  wear  the  tights  and  silken  hose  of  last  evening's 
banquet.  Your  collar  is  all  rumpled — 'tis  that  of  yesterday.  You 
have  not  been  to  bed !  What  has  chanced,  brother  of  mine  :  what 
has  chanced  ? " 


TPIE    FLIGHT  447 

"  A  common  chance,  Louis  of  Honibourg,"  said  the  Margi-ave  : 
•'  one  that  chances  every  day.  A  false  woman,  a  false  friend,  a 
broken  heart.     This  has  chanced.     I  have  not  been  to  bed." 

"  What  mean  ye  ?  "  cried  Comit  Ludwig,  deeply  affected.  "A 
false  friend  ?  /am  not  a  folse  friend.  A  folse  woman  1  Surely  the 
lovely  Theodora,  your  wife " 

"  I  have  no  wife,  Louis,  now ;  I  have  no  wife  and  no  son." 

•  ••'••• 

In  accents  broken  by  grief,  the  JIargrave  explained  what  had 
occurred.  Gottfried's  information  was  l>ut  ti)o  correct.  There  was 
a  cause  for  the  likeness  between  Otto  and  Sir  Hildebrandt :  a  fatal 
cause  !  Hildebrandt  and  Theodora  had  met  at  dawn  at  the  outer 
gate.  The  Margrave  had  seen  them.  They  walked  along  together  ; 
they  embraced.  Ah  !  how  the  husband's,  the  father's,  feelings  were 
harrowed  at  that  embrace  !  They  parted  ;  and  then  the  Margrave, 
coming  forward,  coldly  signified  to  his  lady  that  she  was  to  retire  to 
a  convent  for  life,  and  gave  orders  that  the  boy  should  be  sent  too, 
to  take  the  vows  at  a  monastery. 

Both  sentences  had  been  executed.  Otto,  in  a  boat,  and  guarded 
by  a  company  of  his  father's  men-at-arms,  was  on  the  river  going 
towards  Cologne,  to  the  monastery  of  Saint  Buifo  there.  The  Lady 
Theodora,  under  the  guard  of  Sir  Gottfried  and  an  attendant,  were 
on  their  way  to  the  convent  of  Nonnenwerth,  which  many  of  our 
readers  have  seen — the  beautiful  Green  Island  Convent,  laved  hy 
the  bright  waters  of  the  Rhine  ! 

"  What  road  did  Gottfried  take  ■? "  asked  the  Knight  of  Hom- 
bourg,  grinding  his  teeth. 

"  You  cannot  overtake  him,"  said  the  Margrave.  "  My  good 
Gottfried,  he  is  my  only  comfort  now :  he  is  my  kinsman,  and 
shall  be  my  heir.     He  will  be  back  anon." 

"  Will  he  so  1 "  thought  Sir  Ludwig.  "  I  will  ask  him  a  few 
questions  ere  he  return."  And  springing  fi'om  his  couch,  he  began 
forthwith  to  put  on  his  usual  morning  dress  of  complete  armour  ; 
and,  after  a  hasty  ablutiiui,  donned,  not  his  cap  of  maintenance,  but 
his  helmet  of  battle.     He  rang  the  bell  violently. 

"  A  cup  of  coffee,  straight,"  said  he,  to  the  servitor  who  answered 
the  summons ;  "  bid  the  cook  pack  me  a  sausage  and  bread  in 
paper,  and  the  groom  saddle  Streithengst  :  we  have  far  to  ride." 

The  various  orders  were  obeyed.  The  horse  was  brought ;  the 
refreshments  disposed  of  ;  the  clattering  steps  of  the  departing  steed 
were  heard  in  the  courtyard ;  but  the  Margrave  took  no  notice  of 
his  friend,  and  sat,  plunged  in  silent  grief,  quite  motionless  by  the 
empty  bedside. 

10 


CHAPTER  V 

THE   TRAITOR'S  DOOM 

THE  Hombourger  led  his  horse  down  the  winding  path  which 
conducts  from  the  hill  and  castle  of  Godesberg  into  the 
beautiful  green  plain  below.  Who  has  not  seen  that  lovely 
plain,  and  who  that  has  seen  it  has  not  loved  it?  A  thousand 
sunny  vineyards  and  cornfields  stretch  around  in  peaceful  luxuriance  ; 
the  mighty  Rhine  floats  by  it  in  silver  magnificence,  and  on  the 
opposite  bank  rise  the  seven  mountains  robed  in  majestic  purple, 
the  monarchs  of  the  royal  scene. 

A  pleasing  poet,  Lord  Byron,  in  describing  this  very  scene,  has 
mentioned  that  "  peasant  girls,  with  dark  blue  eyes,  and  hands  that 
offer  cake  and  wine,"  are  perpetually  crowding  round  the  traveller 
in  this  delicious  district,  and  proffering  to  him  their  rustic  presents. 
This  was  no  doubt  the  case  in  former  days,  when  the  noble  bard 
wrote  his  elegant  poems — in  the  happy  ancient  days  !  when  maidens 
were  as  yet  generous,  and  men  kindly !  Now  the  degenerate 
peasantry  of  the  district  are  nnich  more  inclined  to  a.sk  than  to  give, 
and  their  blue  eyes  seem  to  have  disappeared  with  their  generosity. 

But  as  it  was  a  long  time  ago  that  the  events  of  our  story 
occurred,  'tis  probable  that  the  good  Knight  Ludwig  of  Hombourg 
was  gi'ceted  upon  his  jiatli  by  this  fascinating  peasantry  ;  though 
Ave  know  not  how  he  accepted  their  welcome.  He  continued  his 
ride  across  the  flat  green  covmtry  until  he  came  to  Rolandseck, 
whence  he  could  command  the  Island  of  Nonnenwerth  (that  lies 
in  the  Rhine  opposite  that  i)lace),  and  all  who  went  to  it  or  passed 
from  it. 

Over  the  entrance  of  a  little  cavern  in  one  of  the  rocks  hanging 
above  the  Rhine-stream  at  Rolandseck,  and  covered  with  odoriferous 
cactuses  and  silvery  magnolias,  the  traveller  of  the  present  day  may 
perceive  a  rude  broken  image  of  a  saint :  that  image  represented  the 
veneraljle  Saint  Buffo  of  Bonn,  the  patron  of  the  Margrave ;  and 
Sir  Ludwig,  kneeling  on  the  greensward,  and  reciting  a  censer,  an 
ave,  and  a  couple  of  acolytes  before  it,  felt  encouraged  to  think  that 
the  deed  he  meditated  was  about  to  be  performed  under  the  very 
eyes  of  his  friend's  sanctified  patron      His  devotion  done  (and  the 


THE    TRAITOR'S    DOOM  449 

knight  of  those  clays  was  as  pious  as  lie  was  brave),  Sir  Ludwig, 
the  galhint  Hombourger,  exclaimed  with  a  loud  voice  :  — 

"  Ho  !  hermit !  holy  hermit,  art  thou  hi  thy  ccU  ? " 

"  Who  calls  the  poor  servant  of  Heaven  and  Saint  Buffo  ? " 
exclaimed  a  voice  from  the  cavern;  and  presently,  from  beneath 
the  wreaths  of  geranium  and  magnolia,  appeared  an  intensely 
venerable,  ancient,  and  majestic  head^ — 'twas  that,  we  need  not  say, 
of  Saint  Buffo's  solitary.  A  silver  beard  hanging  to  his  knees  gave 
his  person  an  appearance  of  great  respectability ;  his  body  was 
robed  in  simple  brown  serge,  and  girt  with  a  knotted  cord  ;  his 
ancient  feet  were  only  defended  from  the  prickles  and  stones  by 
the  rudest  sandals,  and  his  bald  and  polished  head  was  bare. 

"Holy  hermit,"  said  the  knight  in  a  grave  voice,  "make  ready 
thy  ministry,  for  there  is  some  one  about  to  die." 

"  Where,  son  1 " 

"  Here,  father." 

"  Is  he  here,  now  1 " 

"Perhaps,"  said  the  stout  warrior,  crossing  himself;  "but  not 
so  if  right  prevail."  At  this  moment  he  caught  sight  of  a  ferry- 
boat putting  off  from  iN  onnenwerth,  with  a  knight  on  board.  Lud- 
wig knew  at  once,  by  the  sinople  reversed  and  the  truncated  gules 
on  his  surcoat,  that  it  was  Sir  Gottfried  of  Godesberg. 

"  Be  ready,  father,"  said  the  good  knight,  jwintiug  towards  the 
advancing  boat ;  and  waving  his  hand  by  way  of  respect  to  the 
reverend  hermit,  without  a  further  word  he  vaulted  into  his  saddle, 
and  rode  back  for  a  few  score  of  paces,  when  he  wheeled  round,  and 
remained  steady.  His  great  lance  and  pennon  rose  in  the  air.  His 
armour  glistened  in  the  sun  ;  the  chest  and  head  of  his  battle-horse 
were  similarly  covered  with  steel.  As  Sir  Gottfried,  likewise  armed 
and  mounted  (for  his  horse  had  been  left  at  the  ferry  hard  by), 
advanced  up  the  road,  he  almost  started  at  the  figure  before  him — 
a  glistening  tower  of  steel. 

"  Are  you  the  lord  of  this  ])ass,  Sir  Knight  ? "  said  Sir  Gottfried 
haughtily,  "  or  do  ycju  hold  it  against  all  comers,  in  honour  of 
your  lady-love  ? " 

"  I  am  not  the  lord  of  this  pass.  I  do  not  hold  it  against  all 
comers.     I  hold  it  but  against  one,  and  he  is  a  liar  and  a  traitor." 

"As  the  matter  concerns  me  not,  I  i)ray  you  let  me  pass,"  said 
Gottfried. 

"  The  matter  does  concern  thee,  Gottfried  of  Godesberg.  Liar 
and  traitor  !  art  thou  coward,  too  1 " 

"  Holy  Saint  Buffo  !  'tis  a  fight !  "  exclaimed  the  old  hermit 
(who,  too,  had  been  a  gallant  warrior  in  his  day)  ;  and  like  the  old 
war-liorse  that  hears  the  trumpet's  sound,  and  spite  of  his  clerical 
2  K 


450  A    LEGEXD    OF    THE    EHIXE 

professio]!,  he  prepared  to  look  on  at  the  combat  with  no  ordinary 
eagerness,  and  sat  down  on  the  overhanging  ledge  of  the  rock, 
lighting  his  pipe,  and  affecting  unconcern,  but  in  reality  most  deeply 
interested  in  the  event  which  was  about  to  ensue. 

As  soon  as  the  word  "coward"  had  been  pronounced  by  Sir 
Ludwig,  liis  opponent,  uttering  a  curse  far  too  horrible  to  be  in- 
scribed here,  had  wheeled  back  his  powerful  piebald,  and  brought 
his  lance  to  the  rest. 

"  Ha  !  Beause'ant !  "  cried  he.  "  Allah  humdillah  !  "  'Twas  the 
battle-cry  in  Palestine  of  the  irresistible  Knights  Hospitallers. 
'■'  Look  to  thyself,  Sir  Knight,  and  for  mercy  from  Heaven.  /  will 
give  thee  none." 

"A  Bugo  for  Katzenellenbogen  ! "  exclaimed  Sir  Ludwig  piously: 
that,  too,  was  the  well-known  war-cn,-  of  his  princely  race. 

"  I  will  give  the  signal,"  said  the  old  hermit,  waving  his  pipe. 
"  Knights,  are  you  ready?     One,  two,  three.     Los  !  "  (Let  go). 

At  the  signal,  the  two  steeds  tore  up  tlie  ground  like  whirl- 
winds ;  the  two  knights,  two  flashing  perpendicular  masses  of  steel, 
rapidly  converged;  the  two  lances  met  upon  the  two  shields  of 
either,  and  shivered,  splintered,  shattered  into  ten  lumdred  thousand 
pieces,  which  whirled  through  the  air  liere  and  there,  among  the 
rocks,  or  in  the  trees,  or  in  the  river.  The  two  horses  fell  back 
trembling  on  their  haunches,  where  they  remained  for  half  a  minute 
or  so. 

"  Holy  Buffo  !  a  brave  stroke  !  "  said  the  ohl  hcnnit.  "  Marry, 
but  a  splinter  a\  ell-nigh  took  off  my  nose ! "  The  honest  hermit 
waved  his  pij)e  in  delight,  not  perceiving  that  one  of  the  splinters 
had  carried  of  the  head  of  it,  and  rendered  his  fiivourite  amuse- 
ment impossible.  "  Ha  !  tliey  are  to  it  again  !  0  my  !  how  they 
go  to  witli  their  great  swords  I  Well  stricken,  grey !  Well 
paiTied,  i)iebald  !     Ha,  that  was  a  slicer !     Go  it,  ])iebald  !  go  it, 

grey  ! — go  it,  grey  !  go  it,  pie Peccavi  !  ]ieccavi !  "  said  the  old 

man,  here  suddenly  closing  his  eyes,  and  falling  downi  on  his  knees. 
"  I  forgot  I  was  a  man  of  peace."  And  the  next  moment,  uttering 
a  hiisty  matin,  lie  sprang  down  the  ledge  of  rock,  and  wivs  by  the 
side  of  the  condjatants. 

The  battle  was  over.  Good  knight  as  Sir  Gottfried  was,  his 
strength  and  skill  liad  not  been  able  to  overcome  Sir  Ludwig  the 
Hombourger,  with  right  on  his  side.  He  was  bleeding  at  everv 
j)oint  of  his  armour :  he  had  been  run  through  the  body  several 
times,  and  a  cut  In  tierce,  delivered  with  tremendous  dexterity,  had 
cloven  the  crown  of  his  helmet  of  Damascus  steel,  and  passing 
through  the  cerebelkuu  and  sensorium,  had  split  his  nose  almost 
ia  twain. 


THE    TRAITOR'S    DOOM  451 

His  mouth  foaming — his  face  almost  gi-eeu — his  eyes  full  of 
blood — his  brains  spattered  over  his  forehead,  and  several  of  his 
teeth  knocked  out — the  discomfited  "warrior  presented  a  ghastly 
spectacle,  as,  reeling  under  the  effects  of  the  last  tremendous  blow 
which  the  Knight  of  Hombourg  dealt.  Sir  Gottfried  fell  heavily  from 
the  saddle  of  his  piebald  charger;  the  frightened  animal  whisked 
his  tail  wildly  with  a  shriek  and  a  snort,  plunged  out  his  hind  legs, 
trampling  for  one  moment  upon  the  feet  of  the  prostrate  Gottfried, 
thereby  causing  him  to  shriek  with  agony,  and  then  galloped  away 
riderless. 

Away  !  ay,  away ! — away  amid  the  green  vineyards  and 
golden  cornfields ;  away  up  the  steep  mountains,  where  he  friglitened 
the  eagles  in  their  eyries ;  away  down  the  clattering  ravines,  where 
the  flashing  cataracts  tundjle  ;  away  through  the  dark  pine-forests, 
where  the  hungry  wolves  are  howling ;  away  over  the  dreary  wolds, 
where  the  wild  wind  walks  alone ;  away  through  the  plashing  ciuag- 
mires,  where  the  will-o'-the-wisp  slunk  frightened  among  the  reeds  ; 
away  through  light  and  darkness,  storm  and  sunshine ;  away  by 
tower  and  town,  highroad  and  liandet.  Once  a  turnj»ikc-man  would 
have  detained  him ;  but,  ha !  ha !  he  charged  the  pike,  and  cleared 
it  at  a  bound.  Once  the  Cologne  Diligence  stopped  the  Avay :  he 
charged  the  Diligence,  he  knocked  off  the  cap  of  the  conductor  on 
the  roof,  and  yet  gallojxid  wildly,  mailly,  furiously,  irresistibly  on  ! 
Brave  horse  !  gallant  steed  !  snorting  child  of  Araby  !  On  went  the 
horse,  over  mountains,  rivers,  turnpikes,  apple-women  ;  and  never 
stopped  until  he  reached  a  livery -stable  in  Cologne  where  liis  master 
was  accustomed  to  put  liim  uj). 


CHAPTER  VI 
THE    CONFESSION 

BUT  -we  have  forgotten,  meanwhile,  tlic  prostrate  individual. 
Having  examineil  the  woiukIs  in  his  side,  legs,  head,  and 
throat,  the  old  hermit  (a  skilful  leech)  knelt  down  l).v  the  side 
of  the  vanquished  one  and  said,  "  Sir  Knight,  it  is  my  painful  duty 
to  state  to  you  that  you  are  in  an  exceedingly  dangerous  condition, 
and  will  not  probably  survive."' 

"  Say  you  so.  Sir  Priest  1  then  'tis  time  I  make  my  confession. 
Hearken  you.  Priest,  and  you.  Sir  Knight,  whoever  you  lie." 

Sir  Ludwig  (who,  nuich  aftected  by  the  scene,  ha<l  Ijeen  tying 
his  horse  up  to  a  tree)  lifted  his  visor  and  said,  "Gottfried  of  Godes- 
berg!  I  am  the  friend  of  thy  kinsman,  ]\Iargnive  Karl,  whose 
happiness  thou  hast  ruined  ;  I  am  the  friend  of  his  diaste  and 
virtuous  lady,  whose  fair  fame  thou  hast  belied  ;  I  am  the  godfather 
of  young  Count  Otto,  wliosc  heritage  thou  wouldst  have  ajiprnpriated. 
Tlierefore  I  met  thee  in  deadly  fight,  and  overcame  thee,  an<l  have 
well-nigh  finished  thee.     Speak  on." 

"  I  have  done  all  this,"  said  the  dying  man,  "  an<l  here,  in  my 
last  hour,  repent  me.  The  Lady  Theodora  is  a  siiotless  lady  :  tlie 
youthful  Otto  the  true  son  of  Ins  father— Sir  Hildebrandt  is  not  his 
lather,  but  his  uncle." 

"Gracious  Buffo!"  "Celestial  Bugo  ! "  here  said  the  hermit 
and  the  Knight  of  Hombourg  sinuiltaneously,  clasjiing  their  hands. 

"Yes,  his  uncle;  but  with  the  hnr-sinistcr  in  hi.s  "scutcheon. 
Hence  he  could  never  be  acknowledged  by  the  fondly ;  hence,  too, 
the  Lady  Theodora's  spotless  purity  (though  the  young  peojde  had 
been  lirought  up  together)  could  never  be  brought  to  own  the  re- 
lationship." 

"  May  I  repeat  your  confession  ? "  asked  the  hernnt. 
"  With  the  greatest  i)lea.sure  in  life  :  carry  my  confession  to  the 
Margrave,  and  pray  him  give  me  pardon.  Were  there — a  notary- 
public  present,"  slowly  gasped  the  knight,  the  film  of  dissolution 
glazing  over  his  eyes,  "  I  would  ask— you — two — gentlemen  to 
witness  it.  I  would  gladly — sign  tlio  de]iosition — that  is,  if  I 
could  wr-wr-wr-wr-ite  1  "     A  foint  shuddering  smile— a  quiver,  a 


THE    CONFESSION  453 

gasp,  a  gurgle  —  the  blood  gushed  from  his  mouth  in  black 
volumes.   .  .  . 

"  He  will  never  sin  more,"  said  the  hermit  solemnly. 

"May  Heaven  assoilzie  him  !"  said  Sir  Ludwig.  "  Hermit,  he 
was  a  gallant  knight.  He  died  with  harness  on  his  back,  and  with 
truth  on  his  lips  :  Ludwig  of  Hombourg  would  ask  no  other 
death.  .  .  ." 

An  liour  afterwards  the  principal  servants  at  the  Castle  of 
Godesberg  were  rather  surprised  to  see  the  noble  Lord  Louis  trot 
into  the  courtyai'd  of  the  castle,  with  a  companion  on  the  crupper 
of  his  saddle.  'Twas  the  venerable  Hermit  of  Eolaudseck,  who,  for 
the  sake  of  greater  celerity,  had  adopted  this  undignified  conveyance, 
and  whose  appearance  and  little  dumpy  legs  might  well  create 
hilarity  among  the  "  pampered  menials "  who  are  always  found 
lounging  about  the  houses  of  the  great.  He  skipped  off  the  saddle 
with  considerable  lightness,  however ;  and  Sir  Ludwig,  taking  the 
reverend  man  l)y  the  arm,  anil  frowning  the  jeering  servitors  into 
awe,  bade  one  of  them  lead  him  to  the  ])resence  of  His  Highness  the 
Margrave. 

"  What  has  chanced  1 "  said  the  inquisitive  servitor.  "  The 
riderless  horse  of  Sir  Gottfried  was  seen  to  gallop  by  the  outer 
wall  anon.  The  Margrave's  Grace  has  never  quitted  your  Lord- 
ship's cliamber,  and  sits  as  one  distraught." 

"  Hold  thy  prate,  knave,  and  lead  us  on  ! "  And  so  saying, 
the  Knight  and  his  Reverence  moved  into  the  well-known  apart- 
ment, where,  according  to  the  servitor's  description,  the  wretched 
Margrave  sat  like  a  stone. 

Ludwig  took  one  of  the  kind  broken-hearted  man's  hands,  the 
hermit  seized  the  other,  and  began  (but  011  account  of  his  great  age, 
with  a  prolixity  which  we  shall  not  endeavour  to  imitate)  to  narrate 
the  events  which  we  have  already  described.  Let  the  dear  reader 
fancy,  the  while  his  Reverence  speaks,  the  glazed  eyes  of  tlie 
Margrave  gradually  lighting  up  with  attention;  the  flush  of  joy 
which  mantles  in  his  countenance — the  start — the  throb— the 
almost  delirious  outl)urst  of  hysteric  exultation  with  Miiich,  when 
the  wliole  truth  was  made  known,  he  clasped  the  two  messengers 
of  glad  tidings  to  his  breast,  with  an  energy  that  almost  choked  the 
aged  recluse  !  "  Ritle,  ride  this  instant  to  tjie  Margi-avine — say  I 
have  wronged  her,  that  it  is  all  right,  that  she  may  come  back — 
that  I  forgive  her — that  I  apologise,  if  you  will " — and  a  secretary 
forthwith  despatched  a  note  to  that  effect,  which  was  carried  off  by 
a  fleet  messenger. 

"  Now  write  to  the  Superior  of  the  monastery  at  Colo,gne,  and 
bid  him  send  ine  back  my  boy,  my  darling,  my  Otto — my  Otto  of 


454  ^   LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE 

roses  ! "  said  the  fond  father,  making  the  first  play  upon  words  he 
had  ever  attempted  in  his  hfe.  But  what  will  not  paternal  love 
effect  ?  The  secretary  (smiling  at  the  joke)  wrote  another  letter, 
and  anotlier  fleet  messenger  was  despatched  on  another  horse. 

"  And  now,"  said  Sir  Ludwig  playfully,  "  let  us  to  lunch.  Holy 
hermit,  are  you  for  a  snack  1" 

The  hermit  could  not  say  nay  on  an  occasion  so  festive,  and  the 
three  gentles  seated  themselves  to  a  plenteous  repast;  for  which 
the  remains  of  the  feast  of  yesterday  offered,  it  need  not  be  said, 
ample  means. 

"  They  will  be  home  1)y  dinner-time,"  said  the  exulting  Hither. 
"  Ludwig  !  reverend  hermit !  we  will  carry  on  till  then."  And  the 
cup  passed  gaily  round,  and  the  laugh  and  jest  circulated,  while  the 
three  happy  friends  sat  confidently  awaiting  the  return  of  the 
Margravine  and  her  son. 

But  alas  !  said  we  not  rightly  at  the  commencement  of  a  fonner 
chapter,  that  betwixt  the  lip  and  the  raised  wine-cup  there  is  often 
many  a  spill  ?  that  our  hopes  are  high,  and  often,  too  often,  vain  ? 
About  tliree  hours  after  tlie  departure  of  the  fii"st  messenger,  he 
returnetl,  and  AAath  an  exceedingly  long  face  knelt  down  and  pre- 
sented to  the  Margrave  a  billet  to  the  following  effect : — 

"  Convent  of  Nonnenwerth  :  Friday  Aftti-iwon. 

"  Sir, — I  have  submitted  too  long  to  your  ill-usage,  and  am 
disposed  to  bear  it  no  more.  I  will  no  longer  be  made  the  Initt  of 
your  riliald  satire,  and  the  object  of  your  coarse  abuse.  Last  week 
you  threatened  me  with  your  cane  !  On  Tuesday  last  you  threw  a 
Avine-decantcr  at  me,  wliich  hit  the  butler,  it  is  true,  but  the  inten- 
tion Avas  evident.  Tliis  morning,  in  the  jiresencc  of  all  the  servants, 
you  called  me  by  tlie  most  vile  abominable  name,  which  Heaven 
forbid  I  should  repeat  !  You  dismissed  me  from  your  liouse  under 
a  false  accusation.  You  sent  me  to  this  odious  convent  to  be  im- 
nuu-ed  for  life.  Be  it  so  !  I  will  not  come  back,  because,  forsooth, 
you  relent.  Anything  is  better  than  a  residence  with  a  wii-ked, 
coarse,  violent,  intoxicated,  brutal  monster  like  yourself.  I  remain 
here  for  ever,  and  blush  to  be  obliged  to  sign  myself 

"Theodora  von  Godesberg. 

"  P.S. — I  hope  you  do  not  intend  to  keep  all  my  best  gowns, 
jewels,  and  wearing-apparel ;  and  make  no  doubt  you  dismissed 
me  from  your  house  in  order  to  make  way  for  some  vile  hussy, 
whose  eyes  I  woidd  Uke  to  tear  out,  T.  V.  G." 


CHAPTER   VU 

THE  SENTENCE 

THIS  singular  document,  illustrative  of  the  passions  of  women 
at  all  times,  and  particularly  of  the  manners  of  the  early 
ages,  struck  dismay  into  the  lieart  of  the  Margrave. 

"  Ai-e  her  Ladyship's  insinuations  correct  1 "  asked  the  licrmit 
in  a  severe  tone.  "  To  correct  a  wife  with  a  cane  is  a  venial,  I  may 
say  a  justifiable  practice ;  hut  to  iling  a  bottle  at  her  is  ruin,  both 
to  the  licjuor  and  to  her." 

"  But  she  sent  a  carving-knife  at  me  first,"  said  the  heart- 
broken husband.  "  0  jealousy,  cursed  jealousy,  why,  why  di<l  I 
ever  listen  to  tliy  green  and  yellow  tongue  1 " 

"  They  quaiTelled ;  but  they  loved  each  other  sincerch',"  whis- 
pered Sir  Ludwig  to  the  hermit ;  who  liegan  to  deliver  forthwith  a 
lecture  upon  family  discord  and  marital  authority,  Avhich  woidd 
have  sent  his  two  hearers  to  slee}),  but  for  the  arrival  of  tlie  second 
messenger,  whom  the  Margrave  had  despatched  to  Cologne  for  his 
son.  This  herald  wore  a  still  longer  face  than  that  of  his  comrade 
who  preceded  him. 

"Where  is  my  darling?"  roared  the  agonised  parent.  "Have 
ye  brought  him  with  ye  ? " 

"  N — no,"  said  the  man,  hesitating. 

"  I  will  flog  the  knave  soundly  when  he  comes,"  cried  the 
father,  vainly  endeavouring,  under  an  ai)pcarance  of  sternness,  to 
hide  his  inward  emotion  and  tenderness. 

"  Please,  your  Higlniess,"  said  the  messenger,  making  a  desperate 
effort,  "  Count  Otto  is  not  at  the  convent." 

"  Know  ye,  knave,  where  he  is  1 " 

The  swain  solemnly  said,  "  I  do.  He  is  there."  He  pointed  as 
he  sjiake  to  the  broad  Rhine,  that  was  seen  from  the  casement, 
lighted  up  by  the  magnificent  hues  of  sunset. 

"  The7-e  !  How  mean  ye  there  V  gasped  the  Margi-ave,  wrought 
to  a  pitch  of  nei-vous  fury. 

■'  Alas  !  my  good  lord,  when  he  was  in  the  boat  wliich  was  to 
conduct  him  to  the  convent,  he — he  jumped  suddenly  from  it,  and 
is  dr-dr-owned." 


456  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE 

"  Carry  that  knave  out  and  hang  him  ! "  said  the  Margrave, 
with  a  cahnness  more  dreadful  than  any  outburst  of  rage.  "  Let 
every  man  of  tlie  boat's  crew  be  blown  from  the  mouth  of  the 
cannon  on  the  tower — except  the  coxswain,  and  let  him  be " 

What  was  to  be  done  with  the  coxswain,  no  one  knows ;  for  at 
that  moment,  and  overcome  by  his  emotion,  the  Margrave  sank 
flown  lifeless  on  the  floor 


CHAPTER    VIII 

THE  CHILDE  OF  GODESBERG 

IT  must  be  clear  to  the  dullest  intellect  (if  amongst  our  readers  wc 
dare  venture  to  presume  that  a  dull  intellect  should  be  found) 
that  the  cause  of  the  Margrave's  fainting  fit,  described  in  the 
last  chapter,  was  a  groundless  apprehension  on  tlie  part  of  that  too 
solicitous  and  credulous  nobleman  regarding  tlic  late  of  his  beloved 
child.  No,  young  Otto  was  not  drowned.  AVas  ever  hero  of 
romantic  story  done  to  death  so  early  in  the  talc  1  Young  Otto 
was  not  tlrowned.  Had  such  been  the  case,  tlie  Lord  Margrave 
would  infallibly  have  died  at  the  close  of  the  last  chapter  ;  and  a 
few  gloomy  sentences  at  its  close  would  have  denoted  how  the  lovely 
Lady  Theodora  became  insane  in  the  convent,  and  how  Sir  Ludwig 
determined,  upon  the  demise  of  the  old  hermit  (consequent  upon 
the  shock  of  hearing  the  news),  to  retire  to  the  vacant  hermitage, 
and  assume  the  robe,  tlie  beard,  the  mortifications  of  the  late 
venerable  and  solitary  ecclesiastic.  Otto  was  not  drowned,  and  all 
those  personages  of  our  history  are  consequently  alive  and  well. 

The  boat  containing  the  amazed  young  Count — for  he  knew  not 
the  cause  of  his  father's  anger,  and  hence  rebelled  against  the  unjust 
sentence  which  the  Margrave  had  uttered — had  not  rowed  many 
miles,  when  the  gallant  boy  rallied  from  his  temporary  surprise  and 
despondency,  and  determined  not  to  be  a  slave  in  any  convent  of 
any  order :  determined  to  make  a  desjierate  effort  for  escape.  At  a 
moment  when  the  men  were  pulling  liard  against  the  tide,  and 
Kuno,  the  coxswa'n,  was  looking  carefully  to  steer  the  barge 
between  some  dangerous  rocks  and  quicksands,  which  are  frequently 
met  with  in  the  majestic  though  dangerous  river.  Otto  gave  a 
sudden  spring  from  the  boat,  and  with  one  single  flounce  was  in  tlie 
boiling,  frothing,  swirling  eddy  of  tlie  stream. 

Fancy  the  agony  of  the  crew  at  the  disappearance  of  their  young 
lord  !  All  loved  him ;  all  would  have  given  tlieir  lives  for  him ;  but 
as  they  did  not  know  how  to  swim,  of  course  they  declined  to  make 
any  useless  plunges  in  search  of  him,  and  stood  on  their  oars  in 
mute  wonder  and  grief  Once,  his  fair  head  and  golden  ringlets  were 
seen  to  arise  from  the  water-;  twice,  puffing  and  panting,  it  appeared 


458  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE 

for  an  instant  again ;  thrice,  it  rose  but  for  one  single  moment :  it 
was  the  last  chance,  and  it  sunk,  sunk,  sunk.  Knowing  the  recep- 
tion they  would  meet  with  from  their  liege  lord,  the  men  naturally 
did  not  go  home  to  Godesberg,  but,  putting  in  at  the  first  creek  on 
tlie  opposite  bank,  fled  into  the  Duke  of  Nassau's  territory ;  where, 
a.s  they  have  little  to  do  with  our  tale,  we  will  leave  them. 

But  they  little  knew  hov.^  expert  a  swimmer  was  young  Otto. 
Ho  had  disappeared,  it  is  true  :  but  why  1  because  he  had  dived. 
He  calculatetl  that  his  conductors  would  consider  him  drowned,  and 
the  desire  of  liberty  lending  him  wings  (or  we  had  rather  say  fins, 
m  this  instance),  the  gallant  boy  swam  on  beneath  the  water,  never 
lifting  his  head  for  a  single  moment  between  Godesberg  and  Cologne 
— the  distance  being  twenty-five  or  thirty  miles. 

Escaping  from  observation,  he  landed  on  the  Deutz  side  of  the 
river,  repaired  to  a  comfortable  and  quiet  hostel  there,  saying  he 
had  had  an  accident  from  a  boat,  and  thus  accounting  for  the 
moisture  of  his  liabiliments,  and  wiiile  these  were  drying  before  a 
fire  in  his  cliamber,  went  snugly  to  bed,  where  he  mused,  not 
without  amaze,  on  the  strange  events  of  the  day.  "  This  morning," 
thought  he,  "  a  noble,  and  heir  to  a  princely  estate — this  evening 
an  outcast,  witli  but  a  few  bank-notes  whicli  my  mannna  luckily 
gave  me  on  my  birthday.  What  a  strange  entry  into  life  is  this  for 
a  young  man  of  my  family  !  Well,  I  have  courage  and  resolution  : 
my  first  attemi)t  in  life  has  been  a  gallant  and  suc(;essful  one ;  other 
dangers  will  be  conquered  by  similar  bravery."  And  recommending 
himself,  his  unhapi)y  mother,  and  his  mistaken  father  to  the  care 
of  their  patron  saint,  Saint  Butfo,  the  gallant-hearted  boy  fell 
presently  into  such  a  sleep,  as  oidy  the  young,  the  healthy,  the 
innocent,  and  the  extremely  fatigued,  can  enjoy. 

The  fatigues  of  the  day  (and  very  few  men  but  would  be 
fiitigued  after  swimming  well-nigh  thirty  miles  under  water)  caused 
young  Otto  to  sleep  so  profoundly,  that  he  did  not  remark  how, 
after  Friday's  sunset,  as  a  natural  consequence,  Saturday's  Phoebus 
illumined  the  world,  ay,  and  sunk  at  his  appointed  hour.  The 
serving-maidens  of  the  hostel,  peeping  in,  marked  him  sleeping,  and 
blessing  him  for  a  pretty  youth,  tripped  lightly  from  the  chamber ; 
the  boots  tried  haply  twice  or  thrice  to  call  him  (as  boots  will  fein), 
but  the  lovely  boy,  gi'v'ing  another  snore,  turned  on  his  side,  and 
was  quite  unconscious  of  the  interruption.  In  a  word,  the  youth 
slept  for  six-and-thirty  hours  at  an  elongation ;  and  the  Sunday 
sun  was  shining,  ami  the  bells  of  the  hundred  churches  of  Cologne 
were  clinking  and  tolling  in  pious  festivity,  and  the  burghers  and 
burgheresses  of  the  town  were  trooping  to  vespers  and  morning 
service  when  Otto  awoke. 


THE    ClIILDE    OF    GODESBERG  459 

As  lie  donned  his  clothes  of  tlic  richest  Genoa  velvet,  the 
astonislied  lioy  coidd  not  at  first  aecount  for  liis  dilKculty  in  l)utting 
them  on.  "Marry,"  said  he,  "these  hreeclies  that  my  lilessed 
mother"  (tears  tilled  his  fine  eyes  as  he  thou.Lcht  of  her) — "that  my 
blessed  mother  had  made  long  on  purpose,  are  now  ten  inehes  t()(» 
short  for  mc.  Whir-r-r !  my  coat  cracks  i'  the  back,  as  in  vain  I 
try  to  buckle  it  round  me ;  and  the  sleeves  reach  no  farther  than 
my  elbows!  What  io  this  mystery*?  Am  I  grown  fat  and  tall  in 
a  single  night  1     Ah  !  ah  !  ah  \  ah  !  I  have  it." 

The  young  and  good-humoured  Childe  laughed  merrily.  Jle 
bethought  him  of  the  reason  of  his  mistake  :  his  garments  liad 
shrunk  from  being  five-and-twenty  miles  luuhir  water. 

But  one  remedy  presented  itself  to  his  mind;  and  tliat  we 
need  not  say  was  to  purchase  new  ones.  Inquiring  the  way  to 
the  most  genteel  ready-made  clothes'  establishment  in  the  city  of 
Cologne,  and  finding  it  was  kejit  in  the  IMiiioriten  Strasse,  by  an 
ancestor  of  the  celebrated  Moses  of  London,  the  noble  Childe  hied 
him  towards  the  emporium  ;  but  you  may  be  sure  did  not  neglect 
to  jjcrform  his  religious  duties  by  the  way.  Entering  tlu;  cathedral, 
he  made  straight  for  the  shrine  of  St.  Bufib,  and,  hiding  himself 
behind  a  })illar  tlicre  (fearing  he  might  be  recogniised  by  the  Ai'ch- 
liishop,  or  any  of  his  father's  numerous  friends  in  Cologne),  he 
proceeded  with  his  devotions,  as  was  the  i)ractice  of  the  young 
nobles  of  the  age. 

But  though  exceedingly  int(nit  upon  the  service,  yet  his  eye 
could  not  refrain  from  wandering  a  little  round  about  him,  and  he 
reniarked  with  suri)rise  that  the  whole  church  was  filled  with 
archers ;  and  he  remcndiered,  too,  that  he  had  seen  in  the  streets 
numerous  other  bands  of  men  similarly  attired  in  green.  On  asking 
at  the  cathedral  porch  the  cause  of  this  assemblage,  on(!  of  the 
green  ones  said  (in  a  jape),  "Marry,  youngster,  you  must  be  grren, 
not  to  know  that  we  are  all  bound  to  the  castle  of  his  Grace  Duke 
Adolf  of  Cleves,  who  gives  an  archery  meeting  once  a  year,  and 
jirizes  for  which  we  toxophilites  nuister  strong." 

Otto,  whose  course  hitherto  had  been  undetermined,  now  immedi- 
ately settle*]  what  to  do.  He  straightway  rej)aired  to  th(>  rcady-iiKuh' 
emporiiun  of  Herr  Moses,  and  bidding  that  gentleman  fiiniish  liim 
with  an  archer's  complete  dress,  Moses  speedily  selected  a,  suit  from 
his  vast  stock,  which  fitted  the  youth  to  a  t,  and  we  need  not  say 
was  sold  at  an  exceedingly  moderate  i)rice.  So  attired  (and  bidding 
Herr  Moses  a  cordial  farewell),  young  Otto  was  a  gorgeous,  a  noble, 
a  soul-insi)iring  boy  to  gaze  on.  A  coat  and  breeches  of  the  most 
brilliant  pea-green,  ornamente(l  with  a  ])rofusii)n  of  brass  buttons, 
and  fitting  him  with  exquisite  tightnesSj  showed  off  a  figure  uu- 


460  A    LEGEND    OF   THE    RHINE 

rivalled  for  slim  symmetry.  His  feet  were  covered  with  peaked 
buskins  of  buff  leather,  and  a  belt  round  his  slender  waist,  of  the 
same  material,  held  his  knife,  his  tobacco-pipe  and  jiouch,  and  his 
long  shining  dirk ;  whicli,  though  the  adventurous  youth  Iiad  as  yet 
only  employed  it  to  fixsliion  wicket-bails,  or  to  cut  bread-and-cheese, 
he  was  now  quite  ready  to  use  against  the  enemy.  His  personal 
attractions  were  enhanced  by  a  neat  white  hat,  flimg  carelessly  and 
fearlessly  on  one  side  of  his  open  smiling  countenance ;  and  his 
lovely  hair,  curling  in  ten  thousand  yellow  ringlets,  fell  over  his 
shoulder  like  golden  epaulettes,  and  down  his  back  as  far  as  the  waist- 
buttons  of  his  coat.  I  wairant  me,  many  a  lovely  CiJlnerinn  looked 
after  the  handsome  Childe  with  anxiety,  and  dreamed  that  night  of 
Cupid  under  the  guise  of  "  a  bonny  boy  in  gi-een." 

So  accoutred,  the  youth's  next  thought  was,  that  he  must  supply 
Jiimself  with  a  bow.  This  he  speedily  purchased  at  the  most 
fashionable  bowyer's,  and  of  the  best  material  and  make.  It  was 
of  ivory,  trimmed  with  pink  ribbon,  and  the  cord  of  silk.  An 
elegant  quiver,  beautifully  painted  and  emljroidered,  was  slung 
across  his  back,  with  a  dozen  of  the  finest  arrows,  tipped  with  steel 
of  Damascus,  formed  of  the  branches  of  the  famous  Upas  tree  of  Java, 
and  feathered  with  the  wings  of  the  ortolan.  These  purchases  being 
comjoleted  (together  with  that  of  a  knapsack,  dressing-case,  change, 
&c.),  our  young  adventurer  asked  where  was  the  hostel  at  which 
the  arcjiers  were  wont  to  assemble  ?  and  being  informed  that  it  was 
at  the  sign  of  the  "'  Golden  Stag,"  hied  him  to  that  house  of  enter- 
tainment, where,  Ijy  calling  for  quantities  of  liquor  and  beer,  he 
speedily  made  the  accjuaiutance  and  acquired  the  goodwill  of  a 
company  of  his  future  comrades  who  happened  to  be  sitting  in  the 
coffee-room. 

After  they  had  eaten  and  drunken  for  all,  Otto  said,  addressing 
them,  "  When  go  ye  forth,  gentles  ?  I  am  a  stranger  here,  bound 
as  you  to  the  archery  meeting  of  Duke  Adolf.  An  ye  will  admit  a 
youth  into  your  company,  'twill  gladden  me  iipou  my  lonely  way  1 " 

Tlie  archers  replied,  "  You  seem  so  young  and  jolly,  and  you 
spend  your  gold  so  very  like  a  gentleman,  that  Ave'll  receive  you  in 
our  band  with  pleasure.  Be  ready,  for  Ave  start  at  half-past  two  !  " 
At  that  hour  accordingly  the  whole  joyous  company  prepared  to 
move,  and  Otto  not  a  little  increased  his  popularity  among  theiu 
by  stepping  out  and  having  a  conference  with  the  landlord,  which 
caused  the  latter  to  come  into  the  room  where  the  archers  were 
a-ssembled  previous  to  departure,  and  to  say,  "Gentlemen,  the  bill 
is  settled  !  " — words  never  ungi-ateful  to  an  archer  yet :  no,  marry, 
nor  to  a  man  of  any  other  calling  that  I  wot  of. 

They  marched  joyously  for  several  leagues,  singing  and  joking, 


THE    CHILDE    OF    GODESBERG  461 

and  telling  of  a  thousand  feats  of  love  and  chase  and  war.  AVliile 
thus  engaged,  some  one  remarked  to  Otto,  that  he  was  not  dressed  in 
the  regular  uniform,  having  no  feathers  in  his  hat. 

"  I  dai-e  say  I  will  find  a  feather,"  said  the  lad,  smiling. 

Then  another  gibed  because  his  bow  was  new. 

"  Sec  that  you  can  use  your  old  one  as  well.  Master  Wolfgang," 
said  the  luidistiu'bed  youth.  His  answers,  his  bearing,  his  generosity, 
his  beauty,  and  his  wit,  insi)ired  all  his  new  tosophilite  friends  with 
interest  and  curiosity,  and  they  longed  to  see  whether  his  skill  with 
the  bow  corresponded  with  their  secret  sympathies  for  him. 

An  occasion  for  manifesting  this  skill  did  not  fail  to  present 
itself  soon — as  indeed  it  seldom  does  to  such  a  hero  of  romance  as 
young  Otto  was.  Fate  seems  to  watch  over  such  :  events  occur  to 
them  just  in  the  nick  of  time  ;  they  rescue  virgins  just  as  ogres  are  on 
the  point  of  devouring  them  ;  they  manage  to  be  present  at  Court  and 
interesting  ceremonies,  and  to  see  the  most  interesting  people  at  the 
most  interesting  moment ;  directly  an  adventure  is  necessary  for 
them,  that  adventure  occurs :  and  I,  for  my  part,  have  often 
wondered  with  delight  (and  never  could  penetrate  the  mystery  of 
the  subject)  at  the  way  in  which  that  huml)lest  of  romance  heroes, 
Signor  Clown,  Avhen  he  wants  anything  in  the  Pantomime,  straight- 
way finds  it  to  his  hand.  Hov/  is  it  that — suppose  he  wishes  to 
dress  himself  up  like  a  woman  for  instance,  that  minute  a  coalheaver 
walks  in  Avith  a  shovel-hat  that  answers  for  a  bonnet  :  at  the  very 
next  instant  a  but(,'her's  lad  passing  with  a  string  of  sausages  and  a 
biuidle  of  bladders  luiconsciously  helps- Master  CloAAai  to  a  necklace 
and  a  tournurc,  and  so  on  through  the  whole  toilet  ?  Dejiend  ujion 
it  there  is  something  wc  do  not  wot  of  in  that  mysterious  overcoming 
of  circumstances  by  great  individuals  :  that  apt  and  wondrous  con- 
juncture of  the  the  Hour  and  the  Man;  and  so,  for  my])art,  when  I 
heard  tJie  above  remark  of  one  of  the  archers,  th.at  Otto  had  never 
a  feather  in  his  bonnet,  I  felt  sure  that  a  heron  would  spring  up  in 
the  next  sentence  to  supply  him  with  an  aigrette. 

And  such  indeed  was  the  fact :  rising  out  of  a  morass  by  which 
the  archers  were  passing,  a  gallant  heron,  arching  his  neck,  swelling 
his  crest,  placing  his  legs  behind  him,  and  his  beak  and  red  eyes 
against  the  wind,  rose  sloAvly,  and  offered  the  fairest  mark  in  the 
world. 

"  Shoot,  Otto,"  said  one  of  the  archers.  "You  would  not  shoot 
just  now  at  a  crow  because  it  was  a  foul  bird,  nor  at  a  hawk  be- 
cause it  was  a  noble  bird ;  bring  us  down  yon  heron  :  it  flies 
slowly." 

But  Otto  was  busy  that  moment  tying  his  shoestring,  and  Rudolf, 
the  third  best  of  the  archers,  shot  at  the  bird  and  missed  it. 


462  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE 

"  Shoot,  Otto,"  said  Wolfgang,  a  youth  who  had  taken  a  liking 
to  the  young  archer:   "the  bird  is  getting  further  and  further." 

But  Otto  was  busy  that  moment  whittling  a  willow-twig  he  had 
just  cut.     Max,  the  second  best  archer,  shot  and  missed. 

"Then,"  said  Wolfgang,  "I  must  try  m^^self:  a  plagme  on  you, 
young  spriugald,  you  have  lost  a  noble  chance  ! " 

Wolfgang  prepared  himself  with  all  his  care,  and  shot  at  the 
bird.  "It  is  out  of  distance,"  said  he,  "and  a  murrain  on  the 
bird  ! " 

Otto,  who  by  this  time  had  done  whittling  his  willow-stick 
(having  carved  a  capital  caricature  of  Wolfgang  upon  it),  flung  the 
twig  down  and  said  carelessly,  "  Out  of  distance  !  Psliaw  !  We 
have  two  minutes  yet,"  and  fell  to  asking  riddles  and  cutting  jokes ; 
to  the  which  none  of  the  archers  listened,  as  they  were  all  engaged, 
their  noses  in  air,  watching  th.e  retreating  bird. 

"  Where  shall  I  hit  him  1 "  said  Otto. 

"  Go  to,"  said  Rudolf,  "  thou  canst  see  no  limb  of  him  :  he  is  no 
bigger  than  a  flea." 

"  Here  goes  for  his  right  eye  !  "  said  Otto  ;  and  stepping  f  irward 
in  the  English  manner  (which  his  godfather  having  learnt  in  Palestine, 
had  taught  him),  he  brought  his  bowstring  to  his  ear,  took  a  good 
aim,  allowing  for  the  wind,  and  calculating  the  jDai-abola  to  a  nicety. 
Whizz  !  his  arrow  went  ofl'. 

He  took  up  the  willow-twig  again  and  began  carving  a  head  of 
Rudolf  at  the  other  end,  chatting  and  laughing,  and  singing  a  ballad 
the  while. 

The  archers,  after  standing  a  long  time  looking  skywards  with 
their  noses  in  the  air,  at  last  brought  them  down  from  the  perpendi- 
cular to  the  horizontal  position,  and  said,  "  Pooh,  this  lad  is  a 
humbug  !     The  arrow's  lost ;  let's  go  !  " 

"  Heads  !  "  cried  Otto,  laughing.  A  speck  was  seen  japidly 
descending  from  the  heavens ;  it  grew  to  be  as  big  as  a  crown-piece, 
then  as  a  partridge,  then  as  a  tea-kettle,  and  flop !  down  fell  a 
magnificent  heron  to  the  ground,  flouring  poor  ]\Iax  in  its  fiill. 

"  Take  the  arrow  out  of  his  eye,  Wolfgang,"  said  Otto,  without 
looking  at  the  bird  :   "  wipe  it  and  put  it  back  into  my  quiver." 

The  arrow  indeed  was  there,  having  penetrated  right  through 
the  pupil. 

"Are  you  in  league  with  Der  Freischlitz?"  said  Rudolf,  quite 
amazed. 

Otto  laughing  whistled  the  "  Huntsman's  Chorus,"  and  said, 
"  No,  my  friend.  It  was  a  lucky  shot :  only  a  lucky  shot.  I  was 
taught  shooting,  look  you,  in  the  fashion  of  merry  England,  where 
the  archers  are  archers  indeed." 


THE    CHILDE    OF    GODESBEKG  463 

And  so  he  cut  off  the  heron's  wing  for  a  plume  for  his  hat ;  and 
the  archers  walked  on,  much  amazed,  and  saying,  "AVliat  a  wonderful 
country  tliat  merry  England  nuist  l)c  ! " 

Far  from  feeling  any  envy  at  their  comrade's  success,  the  ji»Ily 
archers  recognised  his  superiority  with  pleasure  ;  and  Wolfgang  and 
Rudolf  csi)ceially  held  out  their  hands  to  the  youiiker,  and  besought 
the  honour  of  his  friendship.  They  continued  tlieir  walk  all  day, 
and  when  night  fell  made  choice  of  a  good  hostel  you  may  be  sure, 
where  over  beer,  punch,  champagne,  and  every  luxury,  they  drank 
to  the  health  of  the  Duke  of  Cleves,  and  indeed  each  other's  healths 
all  I'ound.  Next  day  tliey  resumed  their  march,  and  continued  it 
without  interruption,  except  to  take  in  a  supply  of  victuals  here  and 
there  (and  it  was  found  on  these  occasions  that  Otto,  young  as  he 
was,  could  eat  four  times  as  much  as  the  oldest  archer  ])reseiit,  and 
drink  to  correspond);  and  these  continued  refreshments  having  given 
them  more  than  ordinary  strength,  tliey  determined  on  making  rather 
a  long  march  of  it,  and  did  not  lialt  till  alter  nightfall  at  the  gates  of 
the  little  town  of  Windcck. 

What  was  to  be  done?  the  town  gate.5  were  shut.  "Is  there 
no  hostel,  no  castle  v/here  we  can  sleep  'I  "  asked  Otto  of  the  sentinel 
at  the  gate.  "  I  am  so  liungay  that  in  lack  of  better  food  I  tliink 
I  could  eat  my  grandmamma." 

The  sentinel  laughed  at  this  hyperbolical  exjiression  of  hunger, 
and  said,  "  You  had  be -it  go  sleep  at  the  Castle  of  Windeck  yonder;" 
adding,  with  a  peculiarly  knowing  hjok,  "Nobody  will  <listurb  you 
there." 

At  that  moment  the  moon  broke  out  from  a  cloud,  and  showed 
on  a  hill  hard  by  a  castle  indeed — but  the  skeleton  of  a  castle.  The 
roof  was  gone,  the  windows  were  dismantled,  the  towers  were 
tumbling,  and  the  cold  moonlight  pierced  it  through  and  tlirougli. 
One  end  of  the  building  was,  however,  still  covered  in,  and  stood 
looking  still  more  frowning,  vast,  and  gloomy,  even  than  the  other 
part  of  the  edifice. 

"  There  is  a  lodging,  certainly,"  sai  1  Otto  to  the  sentinel,  who 
pointed  towards  the  castle  witJi  his  bartizan ;  "  but  tell  me,  good 
fellow,  what  are  we  to  do  for  a  supper  ? " 

"Oh,  the  castellan  of  Windeck  will  entertain  you,"  said  the 
man-at-arms  with  a  grin,  and  marched  u]!  the  embrasure  ;  the  while 
the  archers,  taking  counsel  among  themselves,  debated  whether  or 
not  they  should  take  up  their  quarters  in  the  gloomy  and  deserted 
edifice. 

"We  shall  get  nothing  but  an  owl  for  supper  there,"  said  young 

Otto.     "  Marry,  lads,  let  us  storm  the  town ;  we  are  thirty  gallant 

fellows,  and  I  have  heard  the  garrison  is  not  more  than  three  hundred." 
11 


464  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE 

But  the  rest  of  the  party  tliought  such  a  way  of  getting  supper  was 
not  a  very  cheap  one,  and,  grovelling  knaves,  preferred  rather  to 
sleep  ignobly  and  without  victuals,  than  dare  the  assault  with  Otto, 
and  die,  or  conquer  something  comfortable. 

One  and  all  then  made  their  way  towards  the  castle.  They 
entered  its  vast  and  silent  halls,  frightening  the  owls  and  bats  that 
fled  before  them  witli  hideous  hootings  and  flappings  of  wings,  and 
passing  by  a  nudtiplicity  of  mouldy  stairs,  dank  reeking  roofs,  and 
rickety  corridors,  at  last  came  to  an  apartment  which,  dismal  and 
dismantled  as  it  was,  appeared  to  be  in  rather  better  condition  than 
the  neighbouring  chambers,  and  they  therefore  selected  it  as  tlieir 
place  of  rest  for  the  night.  They  then  tossed  up  which  should 
mount  guard'.  The  first  two  hours  of  watch  fell  to  Otto,  wlio  was 
to  be  succeeded  by  his  young  though  humble  friend  Wolfgang ;  and, 
accordingly,  the  Childe  of  Godesberg,  drawing  liis  dirk,  began  to 
pace  upon  his  weary  round ;  while  liis  comrades,  by  various  grada- 
tions of  snoring,  told  how  profoundlv  they  slept,  spite  of  their  lack 
of  supper. 

'Tis  needless  to  say  what  were  the  thoughts  of  the  noble  Childe 
as  he  performed  his  two  hours'  watch ;  wliat  gushing  memories 
poured  into  his  full  soul ;  what  "  sweet  and  bitter  "  recollections  of 
home  inspired  his  throbbing  heart ;  and  wliat  manly  aspirations 
after  fame  buoyed  him  up.  "Youth  is  ever  confident,"  says  the 
bard.  Happy,  hapjiy  season  !  The  moonlit  hours  passed  by  on 
silver  wings,  the  twinkling  stars  looked  friendly  down  upon  him. 
Confiding  in  their  youthful  sentinel,  sound  slept  the  valorous 
toxophilites,  as  up  and  down,  and  there  and  back  again,  marched 
on  the  noble  Childe.  At  length  his  repeater  told  him,  much  to 
his  satisfaction,  that  it  was  half-past  eleven,  the  hour  when  liis 
watch  was  to  cease ;  and  so,  giving  a  playful  kick  to  the  slumbering 
Wolfgang,  tliat  good-humoured  fellow  sjtrung  up  from  his  lair,  and, 
drawing  his  sword,  proceeded  to  relieve  Otto. 

Tlie  latter  laid  him  down  for  warmth's  sake  on  the  very  spot 
which  his  comrade  liad  left,  and  for  some  time  could  not  sleep. 
Realities  and  visions  then  began  to  mingle  in  his  mind,  till  he  scarce 
knew  which  was  which.  He  dozed  for  a  minute ;  then  he  woke 
with  a  start ;  then  he  went  oft'  again  ;  then  Avoke  up  again.  In  one 
of  these  lialf-sleeping  moments  he  thought  he  saw  a  fi.gure,  as  of  a 
woman  in  white,  gliding  into  tlie  room,  and  beckoning  Wolfgang 
from  it.  He  looked  again.  Wolfgang  was  gone.  At  that  moment 
twelve  o'clock  clanged  from  the  town,  and  Otto  started  up. 


CHAPTER    IX 

THE   LADY  OF  U'lNDECK 

AS  the  bell  with  iron  tongue  called  midnight,  Wolfgang  the 
Archer,  pacing  on  his  watch,  beheld  before  him  a  pale  female 
^  figure.  He  did  not  know  wlience  she  came  :  but  there  sud- 
denly she  stood  close  to  him.  Her  blue,  cleai',  glassy  eyes  were 
fixed  ujion  liim.  Her  form  was  of  faultless  beauty ;  her  face  pale 
as  the  marble  of  the  fairy  statue,  ere  yet  tlie  sculptor's  love  liad 
given  it  life.  A  smile  played  ujion  her  features,  but  it  was  no 
warmer  than  the  reflection  of  a  moonbeam  on  a  lake  ;  and  yet  it  was 
wondrous  beautiful.  A  fascination  stole  over  tlie  senses  of  young 
Wolfgang.  He  stared  at  the  lovely  apparition  Avith  fixed  eyes  and 
distended  jaws.  She  looked  at  him  with  inefialile  archness.  She 
lifted  one  beautifully  rounded  alabaster  arm,  and  made  a  sign  as 
if  to  beckon  him  towards  her.  Did  Wolfgang — the  young  and 
lusty  Wolfgang — follow  ?  Ask  the  iron  whether  it  follows  the 
magnet  1 — ask  the  pointer  whether  it  pursues  the  i)artri(]ge  through 
the  stubble  1 — ask  the  youth  whether  the  lollypop-shop  does  not 
attract  him  1  Wolfgang  did  follow.  An  antiipie  door  opened,  as 
if  by  magic.  There  was  no  liglit,  and  yet  tliey  saw  quite  ])lain ; 
they  passed  through  the  innumerable  ancient  cliambers,  and  yet 
they  did  not  wake  any  of  the  owls  and  bats  roosting  tliere.  We 
know  not  through  liow  many  apartments  the  young  couple  passeil ; 
but  at  last  they  came  to  one  where  a  feast  was  prepared ;  and  on 
an  antique  table,  covered  with  massive  silver,  covers  were  laid  fir 
two.  The  lady  took  her  })lace  at  one  end  of  the  table,  and  with 
her  sweetest  nod  beckoned  Woltgang  to  the  otlier  seat.  He  took 
it.  The  table  was  small,  and  their  knees  met.  He  felt  as  cold 
in  his  legs  as  if  he  were  kneeling  against  an  ice-well. 

"  Gallant  archer,"  said  she,  "  you  must  be  hungry  after  your 
day's  marcli.  What  sujipcr  will  you  have  ?  Shall  it  be  a  delicate 
lobster  salad'?  or  a  dish  of  elegant  tripe  and  onions'?  or  a  slice  ol 
boar's-head  and  truffles  1  or  a  Welsh  ]-abbit  a  la  cave  an  cidre  ?  or 
a  beefsteak  and  shallot '?  or  ft  couple  of  rognons  a  la  hrochette  ? 
Speak,  brave  bowyer  :  you  have  but  to  order." 

As  there  was  nothing  on  tlie  table  but  a  covered  silver  dish, 


466  A   LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE 

Wolfeang  thought  th.at  the  lady  who  i)roposed  such  a  multiplicity 
of  delicacies  to  him  was  only  laughing  at  him ;  so  he  determined 
to  try  her  with  something  extremely  rare. 

"  Fair  princess,"  he  said,  "  I  should  like  very  much  a  pork-chop 
and  some  mashed  potatoes." 

She  lifted  the  cover :  there  was  such  a  pork-chop  as  Simpson 
never  served,  with  a  dish  of  mashed  potatoes  that  would  have 
formed  at  least  six  portions  in  our  degenerate  days  in  Rupert  Street. 

When  he  had  helped  himself  to  these  delicacies,  the  lady  put  the 
cover  on  the  dish  again,  and  watched  him  eating  with  interest. 
He  was  for  some  time  too  much  occupied  with  his  own  food  to 
remark  that  his  companion  did  not  eat  a  morsel ;  but  big  as  it 
was,  his  cliop  was  soon  gone ;  the  shining  silver  of  his  plate  was 
scraped  quite  clean  with  his  knife,  and  heaving  a  great  sigh,  he 
confessed  a  hund^Ie  desire  for  something  to  drink. 

"  Call  for  what  you  like,  sweet  sir,"  said  the  lady,  lifting  up  a 
silver  filigree  bottle,  with  an  india-rubber  cork,  ornamented  with 
gold. 

"  Then,"  said  Master  Wolfgang — for  the  fellow's  tastes  were,  in 
sooth,  very  humble — "  I  call  for  half-and-half."  According  to  his 
wish,  a  pint  of  that  delicious  beverage  was  poured  from  the  bottle, 
foaming,  into  his  beaker. 

Having  emptied  this  at  a  draught,  and  declared  that  on  his 
conscience  it  was  the  best  tap  he  ever  knew  in  his  life,  the  young 
man  felt  his  appetite  renewed ;  and  it  is  impossible  to  say  how 
many  different  dishes  he  called  for.  Only  enchantment,  he  was 
afterwards  heard  to  declare  (though  none  of  his  friends  believed 
him),  could  have  given  him  the  appetite  he  possessed  on  that 
extraordinary  night.  He  called  for  another  pork-chop  and  potatoes, 
then  for  pickled  salmon ;  tlien  he  thought  he  would  try  a  devilled 
turkey  wing.     "  I  adore  the  devil,"  said  he. 

"  So  do  I,"  said  the  pale  lady,  with  unwonted  animation  ;  and 
the  dish  was  served  straightway.  It  was  succeeded  by  Ijlack- 
puddivigs,  tripe,  toasted  cheese,  and — what  was  most  remarkable — 
every  one  of  the  dishes  which  he  desired  came  from  under  the  same 
silver  cover  :  which  circumstance,  when  he  had  partaken  of  about 
fourteen  difiereuc  articles,  he  began  to  find  rather  mysterious. 

"  Oh,"  said  the  ])ale  lady,  with  a  smile,  "  the  mystery  is  easily 
accounted  for :  the  servants  hear  you,  and  the  kitchen  is  beloivJ' 
But  this  did  not  account  for  the  manner  in  which  more  half-and- 
half,  bitter  ale,  punch  (both  gin  and  rum),  and  even  oil  and  vinegar, 
which  he  took  with  cucumber  to  his  salmon,  came  out  of  the  self- 
same bottle  from  wliich  the  lady  had  first  poured  out  his  pint  of 
lialf-and-half. 


THE    LADY    OF  WINDECK  467 

"  Tliere  are  more  things  in  lieaven  and  earth,  Voracio,"  said  his 
arch  entertainer,  when  he  jjut.  this  question  to  her,  "  tlian  are  dreamt 
of  in  your  jjhilosophy  : "  and,  sooth  to  say,  the  archer  was  by  this 
time  in  such  a  state,  that  he  did  not  find  anything  wonderful 
more. 

"  Are  you  hapj^y,  dear  youth  1 "  said  the  lady,  as,  after  his 
collation,  he  sank  back  in  his  chair. 

"  Oh,  miss,  ain't  I ! "  was  his  interrogative  and  yet  affirmative 
reply. 

"  Should  you  like  such  a  supper  every  night,  Wolfgang  ? " 
continued  the  pale  one. 

"  Why,  no,"  said  lie  ;  "  no,  not  exactly  ;  not  everi/  night :  some 
nights  I  should  like  oysters." 

"Dear  youth,"  said  she,  "be  but  mine,  and  you  may  have 
them  all  the  year  round  ! "  The  unhajjpy  boy  was  too  for  gone  to 
suspect  anytliing,  otherwise  this  extraordinary  speecli  would  have 
told  him  that  he  was  in  suspicious  company.  A  ijerson  who  can 
offer  oysters  all  the  year  round  can  live  to  no  good  purpose. 

"  Shall  I  sing  you  a  song,  dear  archer  ?  "  said  the  lady. 

"  Sweet  love  ! "  said  he,  now  much  excited,  "  strike  up  and  I 
will  join  the  chorus." 

She  took  down  her  mandolin,  and  commenced  a  ditty.  'Twas  a 
sweet  and  wild  one.  It  told  how  a  lady  of  higli  lineage  cast  her 
eyes  on  a  peasant  i^age  ;  it  told  how  nought  could  her  love  assuage, 
her  suitor's  wealth  and  her  father's  rage  !  it  told  how  the  youth  did 
his  foes  engage ;  and  at  length  they  went  off  in  the  Gretna  stage, 
the  high-])orn  dame  and  the  peasant  page.  Wolfgang  beat  time, 
waggled  his  head,  sung  woefully  out  of  tune  as  the  song  proceeded ; 
and  if  he  had  not  been  too  intoxicated  with  love  and  other  excite- 
ment, he  would  have  remarked  how  the  pictures  on  the  wall,  as  the 
lady  sang,  began  to  waggle  their  heads  t(30,  and  ncd  and  grin  to  the 
music.  The  song  ended.  "  I  am  the  lady  of  high  lineage  :  Archer, 
will  you  be  the  peasant  page  1 " 

"  I'll  follow  you  to  the  devil !  "  said  Wolfgang. 

"  Come,"  replied  the  lady,  glaring  Avildly  on  him,  "  come  to  the 
chapel ;  we'll  be  married  this  minute  !  " 

She  held  out  her  hand — Wolfgang  took  it.  It  was  cold,  damp, 
— deadly  cold ;  and  on  they  went  to  the  chapel. 

As  they  passed  out,  the  two  pictures  over  the  wall,  of  a 
gentleman  and  lady,  tripi)ed  lightly  out  of  their  frames,  skipped 
noiselessly  down  to  the  ground,  and  making  the  retreating  coujile  a 
profound  curtsey  and  bow,  took  the  i)laccs  which  they  had  Iclt  at 
the  table. 

Meanwhile   the   young   couple   passed   on   towards   the   chapel, 


468  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE 

threading  innumerable  passages,  and  passing  through  cliambers  of 
great  extent.  As  they  came  along,  all  the  portraits  on  the  wall 
stepped  out  of  their  frames  to  follow  tliem.  One  ancestor,  of  whom 
tliere  was  only  a  bust,  frowned  in  the  greatest  rage,  because,  having 
no  legs,  his  pedestal  would  not  move ;  and  several  sticking-plaster 
])rofiles  of  the  former  Lords  of  Windeck  looked  quite  black  at  being, 
for  similar  reasons,  compelled  to  keep  their  places.  However,  there 
was  a  goodly  procession  formed  behind  Wolfgang  and  liis  bride  ; 
and  by  the  time  they  reached  the  church,  they  had  near  a  hundred 
followers. 

The  church  was  splendidly  illuminated  ;  the  old  banners  of  the 
old  knights  glittered  as  they  do  at  Drury  Lane.  The  organ  set  up 
of  itself  to  jjlay  the  "  Bridesmaids'  Chorus.'"  The  choir-chair.s  were 
filled  with  people  in  black. 

"  Come,  love,"  said  the  pale  lady. 

"  I  don't  see  the  parson,"  exclaimed  Wolfgang,  spite  of  himself 
rather  alarmed. 

"  Oh,  the  parson  !  that's  the  easiest  thing  in  the  world  !  I  say, 
bishop  !  "  said  the  lady,  stooping  down. 

Stooping  down  —  and  to  what  ?  Wliy,  upon  my  word  and 
lionour,  to  a  great  brass  plate  on  the  floor,  over  which  they  were 
passing,  and  on  which  was  engraven  the  figure  of  a  bishop — and 
a  very  ugly  bishop,  too — witli  crosier  and  mitre,  and  lifted  finger, 
on  which  sparkled  the  episcopal  ring.  "Do,  my  dear  lord,  come 
and  marry  us,"  said  the  lady,  with  a  levity  which  shocked  the 
feelings  of  her  bridegroom. 

The  bishop  got  up ;  and  directly  he  ro.se,  a  dean,  who  was 
sleeping  under  a  large  slate  near  him,  came  bowing  and  cringing 
up  to  liim ;  wliilo  a  canon  of  the  cathedral  (whose  name  was 
Schidnisclimidt)  began  grinning  and  making  fun  at  the  pair.  The 
ceremony  was  begun,  and 

•  •••••• 

As  the  clock  struck  twelve,  young  Otto  bounded  up,  and  re- 
marked the  absence  of  his  companion  Wolfgang.  The  idea  he  had 
had,  that  his  friend  disapi)eared  in  company  with  a  white-robed 
female,  struck  him  more  and  more.  "  I  will  follow  them,"  said  he ; 
and,  calling  to  the  next  on  the  watch  (old  Snozo,  who  was  right 
unwilling  to  forego  his  sleep),  he  rushed  away  by  the  door  through 
which  he  had  seen  Wolfgang  and  his  temptress  take  their  way. 

That  he  did  not  find  them  was  not  his  fault.  The  castle  was 
vast,  tlie  chamber  dark.  There  were  a  thousand  doors,  and  what 
wonder  that,  after  he  had  once  lost  sight  of  them,  the  intrepid 
Childe  should  not  be  able  to  follow  in  their  steps  1  As  might  be 
exj)ected,  he  took  the  wrong  door,  and  wandered  for  at  least  three 


THE    LADY  OF  WINDECK  469 

hours  about  the  dark  enormous  solitary  castle,  calling  out  Wolf- 
gang's name  to  the  careless  and  indifferent  echoes,  knocking  his 
young  shins  against  the  ruins  scattered  in  the  darkness,  hut  still 
with  a  spirit  entirely  undaunted,  and  a  firm  resolution  to  aid  las 
absent  comrade.     Brave  Otto  !  thy  exertions  were  i-c\varded  at  last ! 

For  he  lighted  at  length  upon  the  very  apartment  where  Wolf- 
gang had  liartaken  of  supper,  and  where  the  old  couple  who  had 
been  in  the  picture-frames,  and  turned  out  to  l:;e  the  Indy's  father 
and  mothei",  were  now  sitting  at  tlie  table. 

"  Well,  Bertha  has  got  a  husband  at  last,"  said  the  lady. 

"After  waiting  four  hundred  and  fifty-three  years  for  one,  it 
was  quite  time,"  said  the  gentleman.  (He  was  dressed  in  ])ow(ler 
and  a  pigtail,  quite  in  the  old  fashion.) 

"The  husband  is  no  great  things,"  continued  the  lady,  taking 
snuff.  "A  low  fellow,  my  dear;  a  butcher's  son,  I  believe.  Did 
you  see  hew  the  wretch  ate  at  supper?  To  thiidv  my  daughter 
should  have  to  marry  an  archer  !  " 

"  There  are  archers  and  archers,"  said  the  old  man.  "  Some 
archers  are  snobs,  as  yoiu-  Ladyship  states ;  some,  on  the  contrary, 
are  gentlemen  by  birth,  ot  least,  though  not  by  breeding.  Witness 
voung  Otto,  the  Land^-ave  of  Godesberg's  ;:on,  who  is  listening 
at  the  door  like  a  lacquev,  and  wliom  I  intend  to  run  through 
the " 

"  Law,  Baron  !  "  said  the  lady. 

"  I  will,  though,"  replied  the  Baron,  drawing  an  immense  sword, 
and  glaring  round  at  Otto  :  but  though  at  tlie  sight  of  that  sword 
and  that  scowl  a  less  valorous  youth  would  have  taken  to  his  heels, 
the  luidauntcd  Childe  advanced  at  once  into  the  apartment.  He 
wore  round  his  neck  a  relic  of  Saint  Buffo  (the  tip  of  the  saint's  ear, 
which  had  been  cut  off  at  Constantinople).  "  Fiends  !  I  command 
you  to  retreat ! "  said  he,  holding  uj)  this  sacred  charm,  which  liis 
mamma  had  fastened  on  him ;  and  at  the  sight  of  it,  witli  an 
unearthly  yell  the  ghosts  of  the  Baron  and  the  Baroness  sprang 
back  into  their  picture-frames,  as  clown  goes  through  a  chick  in  a 
pantomime. 

He  rushed  through  the  ojx'u  door  hy  which  the  unlucky  Wolf- 
gang had  passed  with  his  demoniacal  l-.ride,  and  went  on  and  on 
through  the  vast  gloomy  chambers  lighted  by  the  ghastly  moon-' 
shine :  the  noise  of  the  organ  in  the  chapel,  the  lights  in  the 
kaleidoscopic  windows,  directed  him  towards  that  edifice.  He 
rushed  to  the  door  :  'twas  barred  !  He  knocked  :  the  Ijcadles  were 
deaf.  He  applied  his  inestimable  relic  to  the  lock,  and — whizz  ! 
crash  !  clang  !  bang  !  whang  ! —  the  gate  flew  open  !  the  organ  went 
off  in  a  fugue — the  lights  quiveied  over  the  tapers,  ;nid  then  went 


470  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE 

off  towards  the  ceiling — the  ghosts  assembled  rushed  away  with  a 
skurry  and  a  scream — the  bride  howled,  and  vanished — the  fat 
bishoji  waddled  back  under  his  brass  plate — the  dean  flounced  dovvTi 
into  his  family  vault — and  the  canon  Schidnischmidt,  who  was 
making  a  joke,  as  usual,  on  the  bishop,  was  obliged  to  stop  at  the 
very  point  of  his  epigram,  and  to  disappear  into  the  void  whence 
he  came. 

Otto  fell  fixinting  at  the  porch,  while  Wolfgang  tumbled  lifeless 
down  at  the  altar-steps  ;  and  in  this  situation  the  archers,  when 
they  arrived,  found  the  two  youths.  They  were  resuscitat<>d,  as  we 
scarce  need  say ;  but  when,  in  incoherent  accents,  they  came  to  tell 
tlieir  wondrous  tale,  some  sceptics  among  the  archers  said — "  Pooh  ! 
they  were  intoxicated  !  "  while  others,  nodding  their  older  heads, 
exclaimed — •"  They  have  seen  the  Lady  of  Windeck  !  "  and  recalled 
the  stories  of  many  other  yoimg  men,  who,  inveigled  by  her  devilish 
arts,  had  not  been  so  lucky  as  Wolfgang,  and  had  disappeared — 
for  ever ! 

This  adventure  bound  "\^^olfgang  heart  and  soul  to  his  gallant 
preserver  ;  and  the  archers — it  being  now  morning,  and  the  cocks 
crowing  lustily  round  about — pursued  their  way  without  further 
delay  to  the  castle  of  the  noble  patron  of  toxophilites,  the  gallant 
Duke  of  Oleves. 


i 


CHAPTER   K 

THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BOWMEN 

A  LTHOUGH  there  lay  an  immense  number  of  castles  and  abbeys 
/A  between  '\^'in(leck  and  Cleves,  for  every  one  of  which  the 
-*  *-  guide-books  have  a  legend  and  a  ghost,  who  might,  with  the 
commonest  stretch  of  ingenuity,  be  made  to  waylay  our  adventurers 
on  the  road  ;  yet,  as  the  journey  would  be  thus  almost  interminable, 
let  us  cut  it  short  by  saying  that  the  travellers  reached  Cleves  with- 
out any  further  accident,  and  found  the  place  thronged  with  visitors 
for  the  meeting  next  day. 

And  here  it  would  be  easy  to  describe  the  company  Avhich  arrived, 
and  make  display  of  antiquarian  lore.  Now  we  would  reiiresent  a 
cavalcade  of  knights  arriving,  with  their  pages  carrying  their  shining 
helms  of  gold,  and  the  stout  esquires,  bearers  of  lance  and  banner. 
Anon  would  arrive  a  fat  abbot  on  his  ambling  pad,  surrounded  by  the 
white-robed  comjjanions  of  his  convent.  Here  should  come  the  glee- 
men  and  jongleurs,  the  minstrels,  the  mountebanks,  the  particoloured 
gipsies,  the  dark-eyed,  nut-brown  Zigeunerinnen  ;  then  a  troop  of 
peasants  clianting  Rhine-songs,  and  leading  in  their  ox-drawn  carts  the 
peach-cheeked  girls  from  the  vine-lands.  Next  we  would  depict  the 
litters  blazoned  with  armorial  bearings,  from  Ijetween  the  broidered 
curtains  of  which  peeped  out  the  swan-like  necks  and  the  haughty 
faces  of  the  blonde  ladies  of  the  castles.  But  for  these  descriptions 
we  have  not  space  ;  and  the  reader  is  referred  to  the  account  of  tho 
tournament  in  the  ingenious  novel  of  "  Ivanhoe,"  where  the  above 
phenomena  are  described  at  length.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  Otto  and 
Ills  companions  arrived  at  the  town  of  Cleves,  and,  hastening  to  a 
hostel,  reposed  themselves  after  the  day's  march,  and  prepared  them 
for  the  encounter  of  the  morrow. 

That  morrow  came :  and  as  the  sports  were  to  begin  early,  Otto 
and  his  comrades  hastened  to  the  field,  armed  with  their  best  bows 
and  arrows,  you  may  be  sure,  and  eager  to  distinguish  themselves ; 
as  were  the  multitude  of  other  archers  assembled.  They  were  from 
all  neiglibouring  countries — crowds  of  English,  as  you  may  fancy, 
armed  M'ith  Murray's  guide-books,  troops  of  chattering  Frenchmen, 
Frankfort  Jews  with  roulette-tables,  and  Tyrolese  with  doves  and 


472  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE 

trinkets — all  liied  towards  the  field  where  the  l)utts  were  set  up,  and 
the  archery  practice  was  to  be  held.  The  Childe  and  his  brother 
archei-s  were,  it  need  not  be  said,  early  on  the  ground. 

Bat  what  words  of  mine  can  describe  the  young  gentleman's 
emotion  when,  preceded  by  a  band  of  trumpets,  bagpipes,  ophicleides, 
and  otlier  wind  instruments,  the  Prince  of  Cleves  appeared  with  the 
Princess  Helen,  his  daughter  ?  And  ah  !  what  expressions  of  my 
humble  pen  can  do  justice  to  the  beauty  of  that  young  lady  1  Fancy 
every  charm  which  decorates  the  person,  every  virtue  whicli  orna- 
ments tlie  mind,  every  accomplishment  which  renders  charming  mind 
and  cliarming  person  douljly  charming,  and  then  you  will  have  but 
a  foint  and  feeble  idea  of  the  beaiities  of  Her  Highness  the  Princess 
Helen.  Fancy  a  complexion  such  as  they  say  (I  know  not  with  what 
justice)  Rowland's  Kalydor  imjiarts  to  the  users  of  that  cosmetic ; 
fancy  teeth  to  which  orient  pearls  are  like  Wallsend  coals ;  eyes, 
which  were  so  blue,  tender,  and  bright,  that  while  they  ran  you 
through  with  their  lustre,  they  healed  you  with  their  kindness ;  a 
neck  and  waist,  so  ravishingly  slander  and  graceful,  that  the  least 
that  is  said  about  them  the  better  ;  a  foot  wliich  fell  upon  the  fliiwers 
no  heavier  than  a  dewdrop — and  this  (^harming  person  set  off  by  the 
most  elegant  toilet  that  ever  milliner  devised  !  The  lovely  Helen's 
hair  (which  was  as  black  as  the  finest  vaiuiish  for  boots)  was  so  long, 
that  it  was  borne  on  a  cushion  several  yards  behind  her  by  the 
maidens  of  her  train  ;  and  a  hat,  set  oft'  with  moss-roses,  suntiowers, 
bugles,  birds-of-paradise,  gold  lace,  and  pink  ribbon,  gave  her  a  dis- 
tiiKjw'  air,  which  would  have  set  the  editor  of  the  Mornlni/  Post 
mad  with  love. 

It  had  exactly  the  same  eff"ect  upon  the  noble  Childe  of  Godes- 
berg,  as  leaning  on  his  ivory  bow,  with  his  legs  crossed,  he  stood  and 
gazed  on  her,  as  Cujiid  gazed  on  Psyclie.  Their  eyes  met :  it  was 
all  over  with  both  of  them.  A  ])lush  came  at  one  and  the  same 
minute  budding  to  tlie  cheek  of  either.  A  simultaneous  throb  beat 
in  those  young  hearts  !  They  loved  each  other  for  ever  from  that 
instant.  Otto  still  stood,  cross-legged,  enraj)tured,  leaning  on  his 
ivory  bow  ;  but  Helen,  calling  to  a  maiden  for  her  pocket-handkercliief, 
blew  her  beautiful  Grecian  nose  in  order  to  hide  her  agitation.  Bless 
ye,  bless  ye,  pretty  ones  !  I  am  oW  now  :  l)ut  not  so  old  but  that 
I  kindle  at  the  tale  of  love.  Theresa  MacWhirter  too  has  lived  and 
loved.     Heigho ! 

Who  is  yon  chief  that  stands  belund  the  truck  whereon  arc 
seated  the  Princess  and  the  stout  old  lord  her  father  ?  Who  is  he 
whose  hair  is  of  the  carroty  hue — whose  eyes,  across  a  snuljljy  bunch 
of  a  nose,  are  perpetually  scowling  at  each  other:  who  has  a  hunij)- 
back,  and  a  hideous  mouth,  surrounded  witli  bristles,  and  crammed 


THE    BATTLE    OF    THE    BOWMEN  ^73 

full  of  jutting  yellow  odious  teeth  1  Although  he  wears  a  sky-blue 
doublet  laced  with  silver,  it  only  serves  to  render  his  vulgar  i)unehy 
figure  doubly  ridiculous ;  although  his  nether  garment  is  of  salmon- 
coloured  velvet,  it  only  draws  the  more  attention  to  his  legs,  which 
are  disgustingly .  crooked  and  bandy,  A  rose-coloured  hat,  with 
towering  pea-green  ostrich-]ilumes,  looks  absurd  on  his  bull-head ; 
and  though  it  is  time  of  i)eace,  the  wretch  is  armed  with  a  multipli- 
city of  daggers,  knives,  yataghans,  dirks,  sabres,  and  scimitars,  which 
testify  his  truculent  and  l)loo(ly  disi)ositi()n.  "Tis  tlie  terrible  Rowski 
de  Donnerblitz,  Margrave  of  Eulenschreckcnstein.  Report  says  he 
is  a  suitor  for  the  hand  of  the  lovely  Helen.  He  addresses  various 
speeches  of  gallantry  to  her,  and  grins  hideously  as  he  thrusts  his 
disgusting  head  over  her  lily  shoulder.  But  she  turns  away  from 
him  !  turns  and  sliudders — ay,  as  she  would  at  a  black  dose  ! 

Otto  stands  gazing  still,  and  leaning  on  his  bow.  "What  is 
the  prize  1 "  asks  one  archer  of  another.  There  are  two  prizes — a 
velvet  cap,  embroidered  l)y  the  hand  of  the  Princess,  and  a  chain  of 
massive  gold,  of  enormous  value.     Both  lie  on  cushions  before  her. 

"  I  know  which  I  shall  choose,  when  I  win  the  first  prize,"  says 
a  swarthy,  savage,  and  bandy-legged  archer,  who  bears  tlie  owl 
gules  on  a  black  shield,  the  cognisance  of  the  Lord  Rowski  de 
Donnerblitz. 

"  Wliich,  fellow'?"  says  Otto,  turning  fiercely  upon  him. 

"  The  chain,  to  be  sure  !  "  says  the  leering  archer.  "  You  do 
not  suppose  I  am  such  a  flat  as  to  choose  that  velvet  gimcrack 
there  1 "  Otto  laughed  in  scorn,  and  began  to  prepare  his  bow. 
The  trumjiets  sounding  proclaimed  that  the  sports  were  about  to 
commence. 

Is  it  necessary  to  describe  them?  No:  that  has  already  been 
done  in  tlie  novel  of  "  Ivanhoe "  before  mentioned.  Fancy  the 
archers  clad  in  Lincoln  green,  all  coming  forward  in  turn,  and  firing 
at  the  targets.  Some  hit,  some  missed ;  those  that  missed  were 
fain  to  retire  amidst  the  jeers  of  the  multitudinous  spectiitors. 
Those  that  liit  began  new  trials  of  skill ;  but  it  was  easy  to  see, 
from  the  first,  that  the  battle  lay  between  Squintoft"  (the  Rowski 
archer)  and  the  young  hero  with  the  golden  hair  and  the  ivory  bow. 
Squintoft"'s  fame  as  a  marksman  was  known  throughout  Europe ; 
but  who  was  his  young  competitor'?  Ah!  there  was  one  heart  in 
the  assembly  that  beat  most  anxiously  to  knov .     'Twas  Helen's. 

The  crowning  trial  arrived.  The  buH's-eyc  of  the  target,  set  up 
at  three-quarters  of  a  mile  distance  from  the  archers,  was  so  small, 
that  it  required  a  very  clever  man  indeed  to  see,  much  more  to  hit 
it ;  and  as  Squintoft'  was  selecting  his  arrow  for  the  final  trial,  the 
Rowski  flung  a  purse  of  gold  towards  his  archer,  saying — "  Squintoff, 


474  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE 

an  ye  wiu  the  prize,  the  purse  is  thine."  "  I  may  as  well  pocket  it 
at  once,  your  honoiu-,"  said  the  bowman,  with  a  sneer  at  Otto. 
•'  This  young  chick,  who  lias  been  hicky  as  yet,  will  hardly  hit  such 
a  mark  as  that.''  And,  taking  his  aim,  SquintofF  discharged  his 
arrow  right  into  the  very  middle  of  tlie  bull's-eye. 

"Can  you  mend  that,  young  springald?"  said  he,  as  a  shout 
rent  the  air  at  his  success,  as  Helen  turned  pale  to  think  that  the 
cliamjnon  of  her  secret  heart  was  likely  to  be  overcome,  and  as 
Squintoflf,  pocketing  the  Rowski's  money,  turned  to  the  noble  boy 
of  Godesberg. 

"  Has  anybody  got  a  peaT'  asked  the  lad.  Everybody  laughed 
at  his  droll  request;  and  an  old  woman,  who  was  selling  porridge 
in  the  crowd,  handed  him  the  vegetable  which  he  demanded.  It 
was  a  dry  and  yellow  pea.  Otto,  ste])ping  up  to  the  target,  caused 
S  juiutoff  to  extract  his  arrow  from  the  bull's-eye,  and  placed  in  the 
orifice  made  by  the  steel  point  of  the  shaft,  the  pea  which  he  had 
received  from  the  old  woman.  He  then  came  back  to  his  place. 
As  he  prepared  to  shoot,  Helen  was  so  overcome  by  emotion,  that 
'twas  thought  she  would  have  fiiinted.  Never,  never  had  slie  seen 
a  being  so  beautiful  as  the  young  hero  now  before  her. 

He  looked  almost  divine.  He  flung  back  his  long  clusters  of 
hair  from  his  bright  eyes  and  tall  forehead ;  the  blush  of  health 
mantled  on  his  cheek,  from  which  the  barber's  weapon  had  never 
sliorn  the  down.  He  t(5ok  his  bo'\\^,  and  one  of  his  most  elegant 
arrows,  and  poising  himself  lightly  on  his  right  leg,  he  flung  himself 
forward,  raising  liis  left  leg  on  a  level  with  his  car.  He  looked  like 
Apollo,  as  he  stood  balancing  himself  there.  He  discharged  his 
dart  from  the  thmmming  bowstring :  it  clova  the  blue  air — whizz  ! 

"  He  has  sjdit  the  jjea  !  "  said  the  Princess,  and  fainted.  The 
Rowski,  with  one  eye,  hurled  an  indignant  look  at  the  boy,  while 
witli  the  other  he  levelled  (if  aught  so  crooked  can  be  said  to  level 
anything)  a  furious  glance  at  his  archer. 

The  archer  swore  a  sulky  oath.  "  He  is  the  better  man  I  "  said 
he.      "  I  suppose,  young  chap,  you  take  the  gold  chain  ?  " 

"  The  gold  chain  ! "  said  Otto.  "  Prefer  a  gold  chain  to  a  cap 
worked  by  that  august  hand  1  Never ! "  And  advancing  to  the 
balcony  where  the  Princess,  who  now  came  to  herself,  was  sitting, 
he  kneeled  down  before  her,  and  received  the  velvet  cap  ;  which, 
blushing  as  scarlet  as  the  cap  itself,  the  Princess  Helen  placed  on 
his  golden  ringlets.  Once  more  their  eyes  met — their  hearts  thrilled. 
They  had  never  spoken,  but  they  knew  they  loved  each  other 
for  ever. 

"Wilt  thou  take  service  with  the  Rowski  of  Donnerblitz ?" 
said  that  individual  to  the  youth.      "  Thou  shalt  be  captain  of  my 


THE    BATTLE    OF    THE    BOWMEN  475 

archers  in  place  of  yon  blundering  nincompoop,  whom  thou  hant 
overcome." 

"  Yon  blundering  nincompoop  is  a  skilful  and  gallant  archer," 
replied  Otto  haughtily;  "and  I  will  7iot  take  service  with  the 
Rowski  of  Donnerblitz." 

"Wilt  thou  enter  the  household  of  the  Prince  of  Cleves'?"  said 
the  father  of  Helen,  laughing,  and  not  a  little  anuised  at  the  haughti- 
ness of  the  humble  archer. 

"I  would  die  for  the  Duke  of  Cleves  and  his  family,'"  said 
Otto,  bowing  low.  He  laid  a  particular  and  a  tender  empliasis  on 
the  word  family.  Helen  knew  what  he  meant.  She  was  the 
family.  In  fact,  her  mother  was  no  more,  and  her  papa  had  no 
other  offspring. 

"  What  is  thy  name,  good  fellow,"  said  the  Prince,  "  that  my 
steward  may  enrol  thee  1 " 

"  Sir,"  said  Otto,  again  blushing,  "  I  am  Otto  the  Archer." 


CHAPTER   XI 
THE  MARTYR  OF  LOVE 

THE  archers  who  had  travelled  in  company  with  young  Otto, 
uave  a  handsome  dinner  in  compliment  to  the  success  of  our 
hero ;  at  which  his  friend  distinguished  himself  as  usual  in 
the  eating  and  drinking  dei)artment.  SipiintofF,  the  Rowski  bow- 
man, declined  to  attend ;  so  great  was  the  envy  of  the  brute  at  the 
youthful  hero's  superiority.  As  for  Otto  himself,  he  sat  on  the  right 
hand  of  the  chairman ;  but  it  was  remarked  that  he  could  not  eat. 
Gentle  reader  of  my  page  !  thou  knowest  why  full  well.  He  was 
too  much  in  love  to  have  any  appetite  ;  for  though  I  myself,  when 
labouring  \mder  that  passion,  never  found  my  consumption  of  victuals 
diminish,  yet  rcmeml)er  our  Otto  wjis  a  hero  of  romance,  and  they 
never  are  hungry  when  they're  in  love. 

The  next  day,  the  young  gentleman  i)rocecded  to  enrol  himself 
in  the  coY]^s  of  Archers  of  the  Prince  of  Cloves,  and  with  him  came 
his  attached  squire,  who  vowed  he  never  would  leave  him.  As 
Otto  threw  aside  his  own  elegant  dress,  and  donned  the  livery  of 
tlie  House  of  Cleves,  the  noble  Childe  sighed  not  a  little.  'Twas  a 
splendid  uniform,  'tis  true,  but  still  it  was  a  livery,  and  one  of  his 
pmud  spirit  ill  bears  anotlier's  cognisances.  "  They  are  the  colours 
of  the  Princess,  however,"  said  he,  consoling  himself;  "and  what 
suffering  would  I  not  undergo  for  her  ? "  As  for  Wolfgang,  the 
squire,  it  may  well  be  supposed  tliat  the  good-natured  low-born 
fellow  had  no  such  scruples ;  but  he  was  glad  enough  to  exchange 
for  the  pink  hose,  the  yellow  jacket,  the  pea-green  cloak,  and 
orange-tawny  hat,  with  which  the  Duke's  steward  supplied  him, 
the  homely  patched  doublet  of  green  which  he  had  worn  for  years 
past. 

"  Look  at  yon  two  archers,"  said  the  Prince  of  Cleves  to  his 
guest  the  Rowski  of  Donnerblitz,  as  tliey  were  strolling  on  the 
battlements  after  dinner,  smoking  their  cigars  as  usual.  His  High- 
ness pointed  to  our  two  young  friends,  who  were  mounting  guard 
for  the  first  time.  "  See  yon  two  bowmen — mark  their  bearing ! 
One  is  the  youth  who  beat  thy  Sijuintoff,  and  t'other,  an  I  mistake 
not,  won  the  third  prize  at  the  butts.     Both  wear  the  same  uniform 


THE    MARTYR    OF    LOVE  477 

— the  colours  of  my  house — yet,  wouldst  not  swear  that  the  one 
was  but  a  churl,  and  the  other  a  noble  gentleman  1 " 

"  Which  looks  like  the  nobleman  1 "  said  the  Rowski,  as  black 
as  thunder. 

"Which  ?  why,  young  Otto,  to  be  sure,''  said  the  Princess  Helen 
eagerly.  The  young  lady  was  following  the  pair;  but  under  pre- 
tence of  disliking  the  odour  of  the  cigar,  she  liad  refused  the  Rowski's 
proffered  arm,  and  was  loitering  behind  with  her  parasol. 

Her  interposition  in  favour  of  her  young  protege  only  made  the 
black  and  jealous  Rowski  more  ill-humoured.  "  How  long  is  it,  Sir 
Prince  of  Cleves,"  said  he,  "tliat  the  churls  who  wear  your  livery 
permit  themselves  to  wear  tlie  ornaments  of  nol)lc  knights  ?  Who 
but  a  noble  dare  wear  ringlets  such  as  yon  springald's  ?  Ho,  archer  !  ' 
roared  he,  "  come  hither,  fellow."  And  Otto  stood  before  him.  As 
he  came,  and  i>resenting  arms  stood  respectfully  before  the  Prince 
and  his  savage  guest,  he  looked  for  one  moment  at  the  lovely  Helen — 
their  eyes  met,  their  liearts  beat  simultaneously  :  and,  quick,  two 
little  blushes  appeared  in  the  check  of  either.  I  liavc  seen  one 
ship  at  sea  answering  anotlier's  signal  so. 

While  they  are  so  regarding  each  other,  let  us  just  remind  our 
readers  of  the  great  estimation  in  which  the  hair  was  held  in  tlie 
North.  Only  nobles  were  permitted  to  wear  it  long.  When  a  man 
disgraced  himself,  a  shaving  was  sure  to  follow.  Penalties  were 
inflicted  upon  villains  or  vassals  avIio  sported  ringlets.  See  the 
works  of  Aurelius  Tonsor ;  Hirsutus  de  Nobilitate  Capillari ; 
Rolandus  de  Oleo  Macassari ;  Schnurrbart ;  Frisirische  Alterthum- 
skunde,  &c. 

"  We  must  have  those  ringlets  of  thine  cut,  good  fellow,"  said 
the  Duke  of  Cleves  good-naturedly,  but  wishing  to  spare  the  feelings 
of  his  gallant  recruit.  '''Tis  against  the  regulation  cut  of  my 
archer  guard." 

"  Cut  off  my  hair  !  "  cried  Otto,  agonised. 
"  Ay,  and  thine  ears  with  it,  yokel,"  roared  Donnerblitz. 
"  Peace,  noble  Eulenschreckenstein,"  said  the  Duke  with  dignity  : 
"let  the  Duke  of  Cleves  deal  as  lie  will  Avith  his  own  men-at-arms. 
And  you,  young  sir,  unloose  the  grip  of  tliy  dagger." 

Otto,  'indeed,  had  convulsively  .grasped  liis  snickersnee,  with 
intent  to  plunge  it  into  the  heart  of  the  Rowski ;  but  his  politer 
feelings  overcame  him.  "  Tlie  Count  need  not  fear,  my  Lord,"  said 
he  :  "  a  lady  is  present."  And  he  took  off  his  orange-tawny  cap 
and  bowed  low.  Ah  !  Avhat  a  pang  shot  through  the  heart  of 
Helen,  as  she  thought  that  those  lovely  ringlets  must  be  shorn  from 
that  beautiful  head  ! 

Otto's  mind  was,  too,  in  commotion.     His  feelings  as  a  gentle- 


478  A   LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE 

man— let  us  add,  his  pride  as  a  man — for  who  is  not,  let  us  ask, 
proud  of  a  good  head  of  hair  ? — waged  ^ar  witliin  his  soul.  He 
expostulated  with  the  Prince.  "  It  was  never  in  my  contempla- 
tion," he  said,  "  on  taking  service,  to  undergo  the  operation  of 
hair-cutting." 

"Thou  art  free  to  go  or  stay,  Sir  Archer,"  said  the  Prince 
pettishly.  "  I  will  liave  no  dnirls  imitating  noblemen  in  my  service  : 
I  will  bandy  no  conditions  witli  archers  of  my  guard." 

"  My  resolve  is  taken,"  said  Otto,  irritated  too  in  his  turn. 
"  I  will " 

"  What  1 "  cried  Helen,  breathless  with  intense  agitation. 

"I  will  stni/,"  answered  Otto.  The  poor  girl  almost  fainted 
with  joy.  The  Rowski  frowned  with  demoniac  fury,  and  grinding 
his  teeth  and  cursing  in  the  liorriljle  German  jargun,  stalkeil  away. 
"  So  be  it,"  said  the  Prince  of  Cleves,  taking  his  daughter's  arm — 
"  and  here  comes  Snipwitz,  my  barber,  who  shall  do  the  business 
for  you."  With  this  the  Prince  *oo  moved  on,  feeling  in  his  heart 
not  a  little  comjiassion  for  the  lad  ;  for  Adolf  of  Cleves  had  been 
handsonie  in  his  youth,  and  distinguished  for  the  ornament  of  which 
he  was  mnv  depriving  his  archer. 

Snipwitz  led  the  poor  lad  into  a  side-room,  and  there — in  a 
word — operated  upon  him.  The  golden  cm-Is — fair  curls  that  his 
mother  had  so  often  played  with  ! — fell  un<Ier  the  shears  and  round 
the  lad's  knees,  until  he  looked  as  if  he  was  sitting  in  a  batii  of 
simlieanis. 

When  the  frightful  act  had  been  i)Crformed,  Otto,  who  entered 
the  little  chamber  in  the  tower  ringleted  like  Apollo,  issued  from 
it  as  cropped  as  a  charity-boy. 

See  how  melancholy  he  looks,  now  that  the  operatinu  is  over! 
— And  no  wonder.  He  was  thinking  what  would  \)c  Helen's 
opinion  of  him,  now  that  one  of  his  chief  i)ersonal  ornaments  was 
gone.  "Will  she  know  me?"  thought  he;  "will  she  lovc  me  after 
this  liideous  mutilation  1 " 

Yielding  to  these  gloomy  thoughts,  and,  indeed,  rather  unwilling 
to  be  seen  by  his  comrades,  now  that  he  wjus  so  disfigured,  the  young 
gentleman  had  hidden  himself  behind  one  of  tlie  buttresses  of  the 
wall,  a  prey  to  natural  despondency  ;  when  he  saw  .something  which 
instantly  restored  him  to  good  spirits.  He  saw  the  lovely  Helen 
coming  towards  the  chamber  where  the  oilious  barber  had  jjerformed 
upon  him — coming  forward  timidly,  looking  round  her  anxiou.sly, 
blushing  with  delightful  agitation, — and  ])resently  seeing,  as  she 
tliought,  the  coast  clear,  she  entered  the  apartment.  She  stooped 
down,  and  ah  !  what  was  Otto's  joy  when  lie  saw  her  pick  up  a 
beautiful  golden  lock  of  his  hair,  press  it  to  her  lips,  and  then  hide 


THE    MARTYR    OF    LOVE  479 

it  in  her  Im.som  !  No  carnatiuii  ever  bluslied  so  redly  as  Helen  did 
when  she  came  out  after  performing  this  feat.  Then  she  hurried 
straightway  to  her  own  apartnu>nts  in  the  castle,  an<l  Otto,  Avhose 
first  impulse  was  to  come  out  fiom  his  hiding-place,  and,  falling 
at  her  feet,  call  heaven  and  earth  to  witness  to  his  jjassion,  with 
difficulty  restrained  his  feelings  and  let  her  jmss :  but  the  love- 
stricken  young  hero  was  so  delighted  with  this  evident  proof  of 
reciprocated  attachment,  that  all  regret  at  losing  his  ringlets  at  once 
left  him,  and  he  vowed  he  would  sacrifice  not  only  his  liair,  but 
his  head,  if  need  were,  to  do  her  service. 

That  very  afternoon,  no  small  bustle  and  conversation  took 
place  in  the  castle,  on  account  of  the  sudden  departure  of  the 
Rowski  of  Eulenschreckenstein,  with  all  his  train  and  equipage. 
He  went  away  in  the  greatest  wrath,  it  was  said,  after  a  long  and 
loud  conversation  with  the  Prince.  As  that  potentate  conducted 
his  guest  to  the  gat(.',  walking  rather  denuu'ely  and  shamefacedly 
by  his  side,  as  he  gathered  his  attendants  in  the  court,  and  there 
mounted  his  charger,  the  Rowski  ordered  his  trumi)ets  to  sound, 
and  scornfully  flung  a  largesse  of  gold  among  the  servitors  and  men- 
at-arms  of  the  House  of  Cleves,  who  were  marshalled  in  the  court. 
"  Farewell,  Sir  -  Prince,"  said  he  to  his  host :  "  I  quit  you  now 
suddenly;  but  remend)er,  it  is  not  my  last  visit  to  the  Castle  of 
Cleves."  And  ordering  his  band  to  i)lay  "  See  the  Conquering  Hero 
comes,"  he  clattered  away  through  the  drawbridge.  The  Princess 
Helen  was  not  present  at  his  dei)arture ;  and  the  venerable  Prince 
of  Cleves  looked  rather  moody  and  chajifallen  when  his  guest  left 
him.  He  visited  all  the  castle  defenct^s  pretty  accurately  that 
night,  and  inquired  of  his  oificers  the  state  of  the  amnuuiition,  pro- 
visions, &c.  He  said  nothing ;  but  the  Princess  Helen's  maid  did  : 
and  everybody  knew  that  the  Rowski  had  made  his  proposals,  had 
been  rejected,  and,  getting  up  in  a  violent  fury,  had  called  for  his 
people,  an<l  sworn  by  his  great  gods  that  he  would  not  enter  the 
castle  again  until  he  rode  over  the  breach,  lance  in  hand,  the  con- 
queror of  Cleves  and  all  belonging  to  it. 

ISio  little  consternation  was  si)read  through  the  garrison  at  the 
news :  for  everybody  knew  the  Rowski  to  be  one  of  the  most 
intrepid  and  powerful  soldiers  in  all  Germany — one  of  the  most 
skilful  generals.  Generous  to  extravagance  to  his  own  followers, 
he  was  ruthless  to  the  enemy :  a  hundred  stories  were  told  of  the 
dreadful  barbarities  exercised  by  him  in  several  towns  and  castles 
which  he  had  captured  and  sacked.  And  poor  Helen  had  the  pain 
of  thinking,  that  in  consequence  of  her  refusal  she  was  dooming  all 
the  men,  women,  and  children  of  the  principality  to  indiscriminate 
and  iiorrible  slaughter. 
13 


48o  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE 

The  dreadful  surmises  regarding  a  war  received  iu  a  few  days 
dreadful  confirmation.  It  was  noon,  and  the  worthy  Prince  of 
Cleves  was  taking  liis  dinner  (though  the  honest  warrior  had  had 
little  appetite  for  that  meal  for  some  time  past),  when  trumpets 
were  heard  at  the  gate ;  and  presently  the  herald  of  the  Rowski  of 
Donnerblitz,  clad  in  a  tabard  on  which  the  arms  of  the  Count  were 
blazoned,  entered  the  dining-hall.  A  page  bore  a  steel  gauntlet  on 
a  cushion ;  Bleu  Sanglier  had  his  hat  on  his  head.  The  Prince  of 
Cleves  put  on  his  own,  as  the  herald  came  up  to  the  chair  of  state 
where  tlie  sovereign  sat. 

"Silence  for  Bleu  Sanglier,"  cried  the  Prince  gravely.  "Say 
your  say.  Sir  Herald." 

"In  the  name  of  the  high  and  mighty  Rowski,  Prince  of 
Donnerblitz,  Margrave  of  Eulenschrcckenstein,  Count  of  Krotenwald, 
Scthnauzestadt,  and  Galgenhiigel,  Hereditary  Grand  Corkscrew  of 
the  Holy  Roman  Empire — to  you,  Adolf  the  Twenty-third,  Prince 
of  Cleves,  I,  Bleu  Sanglier,  bring  war  and  defiance.  Alone,  and 
lance  to  lance,  or  twenty  to  twenty  in  field  or  in  fort,  on  plain  or 
on  mountain,  the  noble  Rowski  defies  you.  Here,  or  wherever  he 
shall  meet  you,  he  proclaims  war  to  the  death  between  you  and  him. 
In  token  whereof,  here  is  his  glove."  And  taking  tlie  steel  glove 
from  the  page.  Blue  Boar  flung  it  clanging  on  the  marble  ll<.>or. 

The  Princess  Helen  turned  deadly  pale  :  but  the  Prince,  with  a 
good  assurance,  flung  down  his  own  glove,  calling  upon  f:'ome  one  to 
raise  the  Rowski's  :  which  Otto  accordingly  took  up  and  presented, 
to  him,  on  his  knee. 

"  Boteler,  fill  my  goblet,"  said  the  Prince  to  that  functionary, 
who,  clothed  in  tight  black  hose,  witli  a  white  kerchief,  and  a 
napkin  on  his  dexter  arm  stood  obseiuiously  by  his  masters  cliair. 
The  goblet  w^as  filled  with  Malvoisie :  it  held  about  three  quarts ; 
a  precious  golden  hauap  carved  by  the  cunning  artificer,  Beuvenuto 
the  Florentine. 

"Drink,  Bleu  Sanglier,"  said  the  Prince,  "and  put  the  goblet 
in  thy  bosom.  Wear  this  chain,  furthermore,  for  my  sake."  And 
so  saying.  Prince  Adolf  flung  a  i)recious  chain  of  emeralds  round  the 
herald's  neck.  "  An  invitation  to  battle  was  ever  a  welcome  call  to 
Adolf  of  Cleves."  So  saying,  and  bidding  his  people  take  good  care 
of  Bleu  Sanglier's  retinue,  the  Prince  left  the  hall  v/ith  his  daughter. 
All  were  marvelling  at  his  dignity,  courage,  and  generosit}\ 

But,  thougli  afl'ecting  unconcern,  the  nund  of  Prince  Adolf  was 
far  from  tranquil.  He  was  no  longer  the  stalwart  knight  who,  in 
tlie  reign  of  Stanislaus  Augustus,  had,  with  his  naked  fist,  beaten  a 
lion  to  death  in  three  minutes :  and  alone  had  kept  tiic  i)ostern  of 
Peterwaradiu  for  two  hours  against  seven  hundreil  Turkish  janissaries, 


THE    MARTYR    OF    LOVE  481 

who  were  assailing  it.  Those  deeds  whicli  had  made  the  heir  of 
Cleves  famous  were  done  thirty  years  syne.  A  free  Uver  since  lie 
had  come  into  his  principality,  and  of  a  lazy  turn,  he  had  neglected 
the  athletic  exercises  which  had  made  him  in  youth  so  famous  a 
champion,  and  indolence  had  borne  its  usual  fruits.  He  tried  his 
old  battle-sword — that  famous  blade  with  which,  in  Palestine,  ho 
had  cut  an  elephant-driver  in  two  pieces,  and  split  asunder  the  skull 
of  the  elephant  which  he  rode.  Adolf  of  Cleves  could  scarcely  now 
lift  the  weapon  over  his  head.  He  tried  his  armour.  It  was  too 
tight  for  him.  And  the  old  soldier  burst  into  tears  wh-en  he  fouml 
he  could  not  buckle  it.  Such  a  man  was  not  fit  to  encounter  the 
terrible  Rowski  in  single  coml^at. 

Nor  could  he  hope  to  make  head  against  him  for  any  time  in 
the  field.  The  Prince's  territories  were  small ;  his  vassals  pro- 
verbially lazy  and  peaceable ;  his  treasury  empty.  The  dismallest 
prospects  were  before  him :  and  he  passed  a  sleepless  night  writing 
to  his  friends  for  succour,  and  calculating  with  his  secretary  the 
small  amount  of  the  resources  whicli  he  could  bring  to  aid  him 
against  his  advancing  and  powerful  enemy. 

Helen's  pillow  that  evening  was  also  unvisited  by  slumlicr.  She 
lay  awake  thinking  of  Otto, — thinking  of  the  danger  and  the  ruin 
her  refusal  to  marry  had  brought  upon  her  dear  papa.  Otto,  too, 
slept  not :  but  his  waking  thoughts  were  lirilliant  and  heroic  :  the 
.noble  Childe  thought  how  he  should  defend  the  Princess,  and  wiu 
los  and  honour  in  the  ensuing  combat. 


CHAPTER   XII 

THE  CHAMPIOX 

AND  uow  the  noble  Cleves  began  in  good  earnest  to  prepare  his 
/A  castle  for  the  threatened  siege.  He  gathered  in  all  the 
-^  *■  available  cattle  round  the  propert}',  and  the  pigs  round 
many  miles  ;  and  a  dreadful  slaughter  of  horned  and  snouted  animals 
took  place,— the  whole  castle  resounding  ^ith  the  lowing  of  the 
oxen  and  the  squeaks  of  the  gruntlings,  destined  to  provide  food  for 
the  garrison.  These,  when  slain  (her  gentle  spirit,  of  course,  would 
not  allow  of  her  witnessing  that  disagreeable  operation),  the  lovely 
Helen,  with  the  assistance  of  her  maidens,  carefully  salted  and 
pickled.  Corn  was  brought  in  in  great  ciuantities,  the  Prince  paying 
for  the  same  wlien  he  had  money,  giving  bills  when  he  could  get 
credit,  or  occasionally,  marry,  semling  out  a  few  stout  men-at-arms 
to  forage,  who  brought  in  wheat  without  money  or  credit  either. 
The  charming  Princess,  araiilst  the  intervals  of  her  laboiu-s,  went 
about  eucoiu"aging  the  garrison,  who  vowed  to  a  man  they  would 
die  for  a  single  sweet  smile  of  hers ;  and  in  order  to  make  their 
inevitable  sufferings  as  easy  as  possible  to  the  gallant  fellows,  she 
and  the  apothecaries  got  ready  a  plenty  of  efficacious  simples,  and 
scraped  a  vast  quantity  of  lint  to  bind  their  warriors'  wounds  withal. 
All  the  fortifications  were  strengthened ;  the  fosses  carefiilly  filled 
with  spikes  and  water ;  large  stones  placed  over  the  gates,  con- 
venient to  tumble  on  the  heads  of  the  assaidting  parties :  and 
caldrons  prepared,  with  furnaces  to  melt  up  pitch,  brimstone,  boil- 
ing oil,  &c.,  wherewith  hospitably  to  receive  them.  Having  the 
keenest  eye  in  the  whole  garrison,  young  Otto  was  placed  on  the 
topmost  tower,  to  watch  for  the  expected  coming  of  the  beleaguer- 
ing host. 

They  were  seen  only  too  soon.  Long  ranks  of  shining  spears 
were  seen  glittering  in  the  distance,  and  the  army  of  the  Rowski 
soon  made  its  appearance  in  battle's  magnificently  stem  array. 
The  tents  of  the  renowned  chief  and  his  numerous  warriors  were 
pitched  out  of  arrow-shot  of  the  castle,  but  in  fearful  proximity :  and 
when  his  army  had  taken  up  its  position,  an  officer  with  a  flag  of 
truce  and  a  trumpet  was  seen  advancing  to  the  castle  gate.     It  was 


THE    CHAMPION  4^3 

the  same  herald  wlio  liad  previously  borne  his  master's  defiance  ta 
the  Prince  of  Cleves.  He  came  once  more  to  the  castle  gate,  and 
tlicrt'  iprnclaitiiod  that  the  nol)le  Count  of  Eulenschrcckonstein  was 
in  arms  without,  r('U(l_y  to  do  liattic  witli  tlie  Prince  of  Cleves,  or 
his  c-h:iiii]iioii  ;  that  he  Would  remain  in  arms  for  lliree  days,  ready 
for  conihat.  If  no  man  met  him  at  tlie  end  of  that  ])eri(»d,  lie  would 
deliver  an  assault,  and  would  give  (juarter  to  no  single  soul  in  the 
garrison.  So  saying,  the  herald  nailed  liis  lord's  gauntlet  on  the 
castle  gate.  As  before,  the  Prince  flung  liini  over  another  glove 
from  the  wall  ;  though  how  he  was  to  dcfi'iid  himself  from  such  a 
warrior,  or  get  a  champion,  or  resist  the  pitiless  assault  that  must 
follow,  the  troubled  old  nobleman  knew  not  in  the  least. 

The  Princess  Helen  passed  the  night  in  the  chajjcl,  vowing  tons 
of  wax  candles  to  all  the  ]iatron  saints  of  the  House  of  Cloves,,  if 
they  would  raise  her  up  a  (h'l'cnder. 

Put  liow  did  Ihc  noble  girl's  heart  sink — how  were  her  notion.^ 
of  the  imrity  of  man  shaken  within  her  gentle  bosom,  by  the  dread 
intelligence  which  reached  her  the  next  morning,  after  the  defiance 
of  the  Rowski  !  At  roll-call  it  was  discovered  that  he  on  v.hom  she 
principally  relied — he  wliom  her  fond  heart  had  singled  out  as  her 
(•hami)ion,  had  proved  faithless  ! 

Otto,  the  degenerate  Otto,  had  lied  '.  His  comrade,  Wolfgang, 
had  gone  w'itli  liim.  A  rope  was  found  dangling  from  the  casement 
of  tiieir  chandler,  and  they  must  have  swum  the  moat  and  passed 
over  to  the  enemy  in  the  darkness  of  the  previous  night.  "A  ])retty 
lad  was  this  fair-spoken  ardier  of  thine  !  "  said  the  Prince  her  father 
to  her;  "and  a  j)retty  kettle  offish  hast  thou  cooked  for  the  fondest 
of  fatliers."  She  letired  weeping  to  her  ajiartment.  Never  before 
had  that  young  heart  felt  so  wretched. 

That  morning,  at  innc;  o'clock,  as  they  were  going  to  breakfast, 
the  Kowski's  trumpets  sounded.  Clad  in  complete  armour,  and 
mounted  on  his  enormous  piebald  charger,  he  came  out  of  his 
pavilion,  and  rode  slowly  up  and  down  in  front  of  the  castle.  He 
was  ready  there  to  meet  a  chamjiion. 

Three  times  each  day  did  the  odious  trumi)ct  sound  the  same 
notes  of  defiance.  Thrice  daily  did  the  steel-clad  llowski  come  forth 
challenging  the  cond)at.  The  first  day  passed,  and  there  was  no 
answer  to  liis  summons.  The  secoml  day  came  and  went,  but  no 
champion  had  risen  to  defend.  The  taunt  of  his  .shrill  <larion 
remained  without  answer ;  an<l  the  sun  went  down  uim.ii  the 
wretchedest  father  and  daughter  in  all  the  land  of  Christen<lom. 

The  trumpets  sounded  an  hour  aiter  sunrise,  an  hour  after  noon, 
and  an  hour  before  sunset.  The  third  day  came,  but  with  it  brought 
no  hoi)e.     The  first  and  second  summons  met  no  response.      At  five 


484  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE 

o'clock  the  old  Prince  called  his  daughter  and  blessed  her.  "  I  go 
to  meet  this  Rowski,"  said  he.  "  It  may  be  we  shall  meet  no  more, 
my  Helen — my  child — the  innocent  cause  of  all  this  grief.  If  I  shall 
fall  to-night  the  Rowski's  victim,  'twill  be  that  life  is  nothing  without 
honour."  And  so  saying,  he  put  into  her  hands  a  dagger,  and  bade 
her  sheathe  it  in  her  own  breast  so  soon  as  the  terrible  champion  had 
carried  the  castle  by  storm. 

This  Helen  most  faithfully  jiromised  to  do  ;  and  her  aged  father 
retired  to  his  armoury,  and  donned  his  ancient  war-worn  corselet.  It 
had  borne  the  shock  of  a  thousand  lances  ere  this,  but  it  was  now  so 
tight  as  ahnost  to  choke  the  knightly  wearer. 

The  last  trumpet  sounded — tantara !  tautara ! — its  shrill  call 
rang  over  the  wide  plains,  and  the  wide  plains  gave  back  no  answer. 
Again  ! — but  when  its  notes  died  away,  there  was  only  a  niournful, 
an  awful  silence.  "  Farewell,  my  child,"  said  the  Prince,  bulkily 
lifting  himself  into  his  battle-saddle.  "  Remember  the  dagger. 
Hark !  the  trumpet  sounds  for  the  third  time.  Open,  warders  ! 
Sound,  trumpeters  !  and  good  Saint  Bendigo  guard  the  right." 

But  Putfendorft",  the  trumpeter,  had  not  leisure  to  lift  the 
trumpet  to  his  lips  :  when,  hark  !  from  v\-ithout  there  came  another 
note  of  another  clarion  ! — a  distant  note  at  first,  then  swelling 
fuller.  Presently,  in  brilliant  variations,  the  full  rich  notes  of  the 
"  Huntsman's  Chorus  "  came  clearly  over  the  breeze  ;  and  a  thousand 
voices  of  the  crowd  gazing  over  the  gate  exclaimed,  "  A  champion  ! 
a  champion  !  " 

And,  indeed,  a  champion  had  come.  Issuing  from  the  forest 
came  a  knight  and  squire  :  the  knight  gracefully  cantering  an 
elegant  cream-coloured  Arabian  of  prodigious  power — the  squire 
mounted  on  an  unpretending  grey  cob  ;  which,  nevertheless,  was  an 
animal  of  considerable  strength  and  sinew.  It  was  the  squire  who 
blew  the  trumpet,  through  the  bars  of  his  helmet ;  the  knight's 
visor  was  completely  down.  A  small  prince's  coronet  of  gold,  from 
which  rose  three  pink  ostrich-feathers,  marked  the  warrior's  rank : 
his  blank  shield  bore  no  cognisance.  As  gracefully  ])oising  his  lance 
lie  rode  into  the  green  space  where  the  Rowski's  tents  were  pitched, 
the  hearts  of  all  present  beat  with  anxiety,  and  the  poor  Prince  of 
Cleves,  especially,  had  considerable  doubts  about  his  new  champion. 
"  So  slim  a  figure  as  that  can  never  compete  with  Donnerblitz," 
said  he,  moodily,  to  his  daughter  ;  "  but  whoever  he  be,  the  fellow 
puts  a  good  face  on  it,  and  rides  like  a  man.  See,  he  has  touched 
the  Rowski's  shield  with  the  point  of  his  lance  !  By  Saint  Bendigo, 
a  perilous  venture  !  " 

The  unknown  knight  had  indeed  defied  the  Rowski  to  the  death, 
as  the  Prince  of  Cleves  remarked  from  the  battlement  where  he  and 


& 


THE    CHAMPION  485 

his  daughter  stood  to  witness  the  combat ;  and  80,  having  defied  his 
enemy,  the  Incognito  galloped  round  under  the  castle  wall,  bowing 
elegantly  to  the  lovely  Princess  there,  and  then  took  liis  ground  and 
waited  for  the  foe.  His  armour  blazed  in  the  sunshine  as  he  sat 
there,  motionless,  on  his  cream-coloured  steed.  He  looked  like  one 
of  those  fliiry  kniglits  one  has  read  of — one  of  tliose  celestial 
champions  who  decided  so  many  victories  before  the  invention  of 
gunpowder. 

The  Rowski's  horse  vras  speedily  brought  to  the  door  of  his 
pavilion  ;  and  that  redoubted  warriiu",  lilazing  in  a  suit  of  magnificent 
brass  armour,  clattered  into  his  saddle.  Long  waves  of  blood-red 
feathers  bristled  over  his  helmet,  which  was  further  ornamented  by 
two  huge  horns  of  the  aurochs.  His  lance  was  i)ainted  white  and 
red,  and  he  whirled  the  prodigious  beam  in  the  air  and  caught  it 
with  savage  glee.  He  laughed  when  he  saw  the  slim  form  of 
his  antagonist;  and  his  soul  rejoiced  to  meet  the  coming  1)attle. 
He  dug  his  spurs  into  the  enormous  horse  he  rode :  the  enormous 
horse  snorted,  and  squealed,  too,  with  fierce  pleasure.  He  jerked 
and  curvetted  him  with  a  brutal  playfulness,  and  after  a  few  minutes 
turning  and  wheeling,  during  wliich  everybody  had  leisure  to  admire 
the  perfection  of  his  eijuitation,  he  cantered  round  to  a  point  exactly 
opposite  his  enemy,  and  jiulled  up  his  impatient  charger. 

Tlie  old  Prince  on  tlic  battlement  was  so  eager  for  tlie  combat, 
that  he  seemed  quite  to  forget  the  danger  which  menaced  himself, 
should  his  slim  champion  be  discomfited  by  the  tremendous  Knight 
of  Donnerblitz.  "  Go  it !  "  said  he,  flinging  his  trunciheon  into  the 
ditch  ;  and  at  the  word,  the  two  warriors  rushed  with  whirling 
rapidity  at  each  other. 

And  now  ensued  a  combat  so  terriljle,  that  a  weak  female  hand, 
like  that  of  her  who  pens  this  tale  of  chivalry,  can  never  hi>{)e  to  do 
justice  to  the  terrific  tlieme.  You  have  seen  two  engines  on  tlie 
Great  Western  line  rush  past  each  other  with  a  pealing  scream? 
So  rapidly  did  the  two  warriors  gallop  towards  one  another ;  tlie 
feathers  of  cither  streamed  yards  behind  their  backs  as  they  con- 
verged. Their  shock  as  they  met  was  as  tliat  of  two  cannon-balls ; 
the  mighty  horses  trend )led  and  reeled  with  the  concussion  ;  the 
lance  aimed  at  the  Rowski's  helmet  bore  ott"  the  coronet,  the  horns, 
the  helmet  itself,  and  hurled  them  to  an  incredible  distance  :  a  ]nece 
of  the  Rowski's  left  ear  was  carried  oft  on  the  point  of  the  nameless 
warrior's  weapon.  How  had  he  fared?  His  adversary's  Aveapon 
had  glanced  harmless  along  the  blank  surfoce  of  his  i)olislied  buckler  : 
and  the  victory  so  far  was  with  him. 

The  expression  of  the  Rowski's  fixce,  as,  bareheaded,  he  glared 
ou  his  enemy  with  fierce  bloodshot  eyeballs,  was  one  wortliy  of  a 


486  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE 

demon.     The  imprecatory  expressions  ^yhich  lie  made  use  of  can 
never  be  copied  by  a  feminine  pen. 

His  opponent  magnanimously  declined  to  take  advantage  of  the 
opportunity  thus  offered  him  of  finishing  the  combat  by  splitting  his . 
opponent's  skull  with  his  curtal-axe,  and,  riding  back  to  his  starting- 
place,  bent  his  lance's  point  to  the  ground,  in  token  that  he  would 
wait  until  the  Count  of  Eulenschreckcnstein  was  helmeted  afresh. 

"  Blessed  Bcn<ligo  !  "  cried  the  Prince,  "  thou  art  a  gallant  lance  : 
but  why  didst  not  rap  the  Schelm's  brain  out  1 " 

"  Bring  me  a  fresh  helmet ! "  veiled  the  Rowski.  Another 
casque  was  brought  to  him  by  his  trembling  squire. 

As  soon  as  he  had  braced  it,  he  drew  his  great  flashing  sword 
from  his  side,  and  rushed  at  his  enemy,  roaring  hoarsely  his  cry  of 
battle.  The  unknown  knight's  sword  was  unsheathed  iu  a  moment, 
and  at  the  next  the  two  blades  were  clanking  together  the  dreadful 
music  of  the  combat  ! 

The  Donnerblitz  wielded  his  with  his  usual  savageness  and 
activity.  It  whirled  round  his  adversary's  head  with  frightful 
rapidity.  Now  it  carried  away  a  feather  of  his  plume ;  now  it 
shore  off  a  leaf  of  his  coronet.  The  flail  of  the  tliresher  does  not 
fall  more  swiftly  upon  tlie  coi-n.  For  many  minutes  it  was  the 
Unknown's  only  task  to  defend  liimself  from  tlie  tremendous  activity 
of  the  enemy. 

But  even  the  Rowski's  strengtli  would  slacken  after  exertion. 
The  blows  b?gan  to  fall  less  thick  anon,  and  the  point  of  the 
unknown  knight  began  to  make  dreadful  i)lay.  It  found  and  ])ene- 
trateil  every  joint  of  the  Dt)nnerblitz  armour.  Now  it  nicked  him 
in  the  shoulder,  wliere  the  vambrace  was  buckled  to  the  corselet ; 
now  it  bored  a  slirewd  hole  under  the  light  brassart,  and  blood 
followed ;  now,  with  fatal  dexterity,  it  darted  through  the  visor, 
and  came  back  to  the  recover  deeply  tinged  with  blood.  A  scream 
of  rage  followed  the  last  thrust ;  and  no  wonder  :— it  had  penetrated 
the  Rowski's  left  eye. 

His  blood  was  trickling  through  a  dozen  orifices ;  lie  was  almost 
choking  in  his  helmet  with  loss  of  breath,  and  loss  of  blood,  and 
rage.  Gasping  witli  fury,  he  drew  back  his  horse,  flung  his  great 
sword  at  his  opponent's  head,  and  once  more  plunged  at  him,  wielding 
his  ciu'tal-axe. 

Then  you  should  have  seen  the  unknown  knight  employing  the 
same  dreadful  weapon  !  Hitherto  he  had  been  on  his  defence  :  now 
he  began  the  attack ;  and  the  gleaming  axe  Avliirred  in  his  hand  like 
a  reed,  but  descended  like  a  thunderbolt !  "  Yield  !  yield  !  Sir 
Rowski,"  shouted  he  in  a  calm  clear  voice. 

A  blow  dealt  madly  at  Ins  head  was  the  reply.     'Twas  the  last 


THE    CHAMPION  487 

blow  that  the  Count  of  Eulenschreckenstein  ever  struck  in  battle  ! 
The  curse  ^yas  on  his  hps  as  the  crushing  steel  descended  into  his 
brain,  and  split  it  in  two.  He  rolled  like  a  log  from  his  horse  :  his 
enemy's  knee  was  in  a  moment  on  liis  chest,  and  the  dagger  of 
mercy  at  his  throat,  as  the  knight  once  more  called  upon  him  to 
yield. 

But  there  was  no  answer  from  within  the  helmet.  When  it 
was  withdrawn,  the  teeth  were  crunched  together ;  the  mouth  that 
should  have  spoken,  grinned  a  ghastly  silence  :  one  eye  still  glared 
with  liate  and  fury,  Ijut  it  was  glazed  with  the  film  of  death  ! 

The  red  orb  of  tlie  sun  was  just  then  dipping  into  the  Rhine. 
The  unknown  knight,  vaulting  once  more  into  his  saddle,  made  a 
graceful  obeisance  to  the  Prince  of  Cleves  and  his  daughter,  without 
a  Avord,  and  galloped  back  ijito  the  forest,  whence  he  had  issued  an 
hour  before  sunset. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

THE  MARRIAGE 

THE  consternation  which  ensued  on  the  death  of  the  Rowski 
speedily  sent  all  his  camp-followers,  army,  &c.,  to  the  right- 
about. They  struck  their  tents  at  the  first  news  of  his  dis- 
comfiture ;  and  each  man  laying  hold  of  what  he  could,  the  whole 
of  the  gallant  force  which  had  marched  under  his  banner  in  the 
morning  had  disappeared  ere  the  sun  rose. 

On  that  night,  as  it  may  be  imagined,  the  gates  of  the  Castle  of 
Cleves  were  not  shut.  Everybody  was  free  to  come  in.  Wine-butts 
were  broached  in  all  the  courts  :  the  pickled  meat  prepared  in  such 
lots  for  the  siege  was  distributed  among  the  people,  who  crowded  to 
congratulate  their  beloved  sovereign  on  his  victory ;  and  the  Prince, 
as  was  customary  with  that  good  man,  who  never  lost  an  oppor- 
tunity of  giving  a  dinner-party,  had  a  splendid  entertainment  made 
ready  for  the  upper  classes,  the  whole  concluding  with  a  tasteful  dis- 
play of  fireworks. 

In  the  midst  of  these  entertainments,  our  old  friend  the  Count 
of  Hombourg  arrived  at  the  castle.  The  stalwart  old  warrior 
swore  by  Saint  Bugo  that  he  was  grieved  the  killing  of  the  Rowski 
had  been  taken  out  of  his  liand.  The  laughing  Cleves  vowed  by 
Saint  Bendigo,  Hombourg  coulil  never  have  finished  off  his  enemy 
so  satisfactorily  as  the  unknown  knight  had  just  done. 

But  who  was  he?  was  the  question  which  now  agitated  the 
bosom  of  these  two  old  nobles.  How  to  find  him — how  to  reward 
the  champion  and  restorer  of  the  honour  and  happiness  of  Cleves  1 
They  agreed  over  sujiper  that  he  should  be  sought  for  everywhere. 
Beadles  were  sent  round  the  principal  cities  within  fifty  miles,  and 
the  description  of  the  knight  advertised  in  the  Journal  de  Franc- 
fort  and  the  AlUiemeine  Zeitung.  The  hand  of  the  Princess  Helen 
was  solemnly  offered  to  him  in  these  advertisements,  with  the  re- 
version of  the  Prince  of  Cleves's  splendid  though  somewhat  dila^ii- 
dated  property. 

"  But  we  don't  know  him,  my  dear  papa,"  faintly  ejaculated 
that  young  lady.  "  Some  impostor  may  come  in  a  suit  of  plain 
armour;  and  pretend  that  he  was  the  champion  who  overcame  the 


THE    MARRIAGE  489 

Rowski  (a  prince  wlio  had  his  faults  certainly,  hut  whose  attacli- 
nient  for  luc  I  can  never  forget)  ;  and  how  are  you  to  say  whether 
he  is  the  real  knight  or  not  ?  'J'herc  are  so  many  deceivers  in  this 
world,"  adiled  llio  Princess,  in  tears,  "  that  one  can't  be  too 
cautious  now."'  The  fact  is,  that  she  was  thinking  of  the  desertion 
of  Otto  in  the  morning  ;  by  which  instance  of  faithlessness  her 
heart  was  well-nigh  broken. 

As  for  that  youth  and  his  comrade  Wolfgang,  to  the  astonish- 
ment of  everybody  at  their  impudence,  they  came  to  tlie  archers' 
mess  that  night,  as  if  nothing  had  happened ;  got  their  supper, 
partaking  botli  of  meat  and  drink  most  ijlentifully  ;  fell  asleejt  when 
their  conu-ades  began  to  describe  the  events  of  the  day,  and  the 
admirable  achievements  of  the  unknown  warrior ;  and,  turning  into 
their  hammocks,  did  not  appear  on  parade  in  the  morning  until 
twenty  minutes  after  the  names  were  called. 

When  the  Prince  of  Clevcs  heard  of  the  return  of  these  deserters, 
he  was  in  a  towering  passion.  "  Where  were  you,  fellows,"  shouted 
he,  "  diu-ing  the  time  my  castle  was  at  its  utmost  need  1 " 

Otto  replied,  "  We  were  out  on  particular  business." 

"  Does  a  soldier  leave  his  post  on  the  day  of  battle,  sir  ? " 
exclaimed  the  Prince.  "  You  know  the  reward  of  such — Death  ! 
and  death  you  merit.  But  you  are  a  soldier  only  of  yesterday,  and 
yesterday's  victory  has  made  me  merciful.  Hanged  you  shall  not 
be,  as  you  merit — only  flogged,  both  of  you.  Parade  the  men, 
Colonel  Tickelstern,  after  breakfast,  and  give  these  scouuilrels  five 
hundred  apiece." 

You  should  have  seen  how  young  Otto  bounded,  when  this 
information  was  thus  abruptly  conveyed  to  him.  "  Flog  7)ie ! " 
cried  he.     "  Flog  Otto  of " 

"Not  so,  my  father,"  said  the  Princess  Helen,  who  had  been 
standing  by  during  the  conversation,  and  wlio  had  looked  at  Otto 
all  the  while  with  the  most  ineftable  scorn.  "  Not  so  :  altiiougli 
these  perso7is  have  forgotten  their  duty "  (she  laid  a  particularly 
sarcastic  emphasis  on  the  word  persons),  "  we  have  had  no  need  of 
their  services,  and  have  luckily  found  others  more  foithful.  You 
promised  your  daughter  a  boon,  papa  :  it  is  the  pardon  of  tliose  two 
persons.  Let  them  go,  and  quit  a  service  they  have  disgraced  : 
a  mistress — that  is,  a  master — they  have  deceived." 

"  Drum  'em  out  of  the  castle,  Tickelstern  ;  strip  their  uniforms 
from  their  backs,  and  never  let  me  hear  of  the  scoundrels  again." 
So  saying,  the  old  Prince  angrily  turned  on  his  heel  to  breakfast, 
leaving  the  two  young  men  to  the  fun  and  derision  of  their  sur- 
rounding comrades. 

The  noble  Count  of  Hombourg,  who  was  taking  his  usual  airing 


490  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHIXE 

on  the  ramparts  before  breakfast,  came  up  at  tliis  juncture,  and 
asked  what  was  the  row?  Otto  bkished  when  he  saw  ]iim,  and 
turned  away  rapidly  ;  but  the  Count,  too,  catching  a  glimpse  of  him, 
with  a  hundred  exclamations  of  joyfid  surprise  seized  upon  the  lad, 
hugged  him  to  his  manly  breast,  kissed  him  most  affectionately,  and 
almost  biu-st  into  tears  as  he  embraced  him.  For,  in  sooth,  the 
good  Count  had  thought  his  godson  long  ere  this  at  the  bottom 
of  tlie  silver  Rhine. 

The  Prince  of  Cleves,  who  liad  come  to  the  breakfast-parlour 
■window  (to  invite  his  guest  to  enter,  as  the  tea  was  made),  beheld 
this  strange  scene  from  the  window,  as  did  the  lovelv  tea-maker 
likewise,  with  breathless  and  beautiful  agitation.  The  old  Count 
and  the  archer  strolled  up  and  down  the  battlements  in  deep  con- 
versation. By  the  gestures  of  surprise  and  delight  exhibited  by  the 
former,  'twas  easy  to  see  the  young  archer  was  conveying  some  very 
strange  and  pleasing  news  to  him  ;  though  the  nature  of  the  con- 
versation was  not  allowed  to  transjiire. 

"  A  godson  of  mine,"  said  the  noble  Count,  when  interrogated 
over  his  .muffins.  "  I  know  his  family  ;  worthy  people  ;  sad  scape- 
grace ;  ran  away ;  parents  longing  for  him ;  glad  you  did  not  flog 
him  ;  devil  to  pay,"  and  so  forth.  The  Count  was  a  man  of  few 
words,  and  told  his  tale  in  this  l^rief  artless  manner.  But  why,  at 
its  conclusion,  did  the  gentle  Helen  leave  the  room,  her  eyes  filled 
with  tears  ?  She  left  the  room  once  more  to  kiss  a  certain  lock  of 
yellow  hair  she  had  pilfered.  A  dazzling  delicious  thought,  a  strange 
wild  hope,  arose  in  her  soul  I 

When  she  appeared  again,  she  made  some  side-handed  inquiries 
regarding  Otto  (witli  that  gentle  artifice  oft  employed  by  women) ; 
but  he  was  gone.  He  and  his  companion  were  gone.  The  Coimt 
of  Hombourg  had  likewise  taken  his  departure,  under  pretext  of 
particular  business.  How  lonely  the  vast  castle  seemed  to  Helen, 
now  that  he  was  no  longer  there.  The  transactions  of  the  last  few 
days ;  the  beautiful  archer-boy ;  the  offer  from  the  Rowski  (always 
an  event  in  a  yoimg  lady's  life) ;  the  siege  of  the  castle ;  the  death 
of  her  truculent  admirer :  all  seemed  like  a  fevered  dream  to  her : 
all  was  passed  away,  and  had  left  no  trace  behind.  No  trace  ? — 
yes !  one :  a  little  insignificant  lock  of  golden  hair,  over  which  the 
young  creature  wept  so  much  that  she  put  it  out  of  curl ;  passing 
hours  and  hours  in  the  summer-house  Avhere  the  operation  had  been 
performed. 

On  the  second  day  (it  is  my  belief  she  woidd  have  gone  into  a 
consumption  and  died  of  languor,  if  the  event  had  been  delayed  a 
day  longer)  a  messenger,  with  a  trumpet,  brought  a  letter  in  haste 
to  the  Prince  of  Cleves,  who  was,  as  usual,  taking  refreshment. 


THE    MARRIAGE  491 

"To  the  High  and  Mighty  Prince,"  &c.,  the  letter  ran.  "The 
Champion  who  had  the  honour  of  engaging  on  Wednesday  last  Avith 
his  late  Excellency  the  Rowski  of  Donnerhlitz,  presents  his  compli- 
ments to  H.S.H.  the  Prince  of  Cleves.  Through  the  medium  of  the 
public  prints  the  C  has  been  made  acquainted  with  the  flattering 
proijosal  of  His  Serene  Highness  relative  to  a  union  between  himself 
(the  Champion)  and  Her  Serene  Highness  the  Princess  Helen  of 
Cleves.  The  Champion  accepts  with  pleasure  that  polite  invitation, 
and  will  have  the  honour  of  waiting  upon  the  Prince  and  Princess  of 
Cleves  about  half-an-hour  after  the  receipt  of  this  letter." 

"  Tol  lol  de  rol,  girl,"  shouted  the  Prince  with  heartfelt  joy. 
(Have  you  not  remarked,  dear  friend,  how  often  in  novel-books,  and 
on  the  stage,  joy  is  announced  by  the  aliove  burst  of  insensate 
monosyllables  ?)  "  Tol  lol  de  rol.  '  Don  thy  best  kirtle,  child  ;  thy 
husband  will  be  here  anon."  And  Helen  retired  to  arrange  her 
toilet  for  this  awful  event  in  the  life  of  a  young  woman.  When  she 
returned,  attired  to  welcome  her  defender,  her  young  check  was  as 
pale  as  the  white  satin  slip  and  orange  sprigs  she  wore.   , 

She  was  scarce  seated  on  the  dais  by  her  father's  side,  when  a 
huge  flourish  of  trumpets  from  without  proclaimed  the  arrival  of  the 
Champion.  Helen  felt  quite  sick  :  a  draught  of  ether  was  necessary 
to  restore  her  tranquillity. 

The  gi-eat  door  was  flung  open.  He  entered, — the  same  tall 
warrior,  slim  and  beautiful,  blazing  in  shining  steel.  He  a])iiroached 
the  Prince's  throne,  supported  on  each  side  1iy  a  friend  likewise  in 
armour.     He  knelt  gracefully  on  one  knee. 

"  I  come,"  said  he,  in  a  voice  trembling  with  emotion,  "  to  claim, 
as  per  advertisement,  the  hand  of  the  lovely  Lady  Helen."  And  he 
held  out  a  copy  of  the  Alhjemeine  Zeitung  as  he  spoke. 

"  Art  thou  noble,  Sir  Knight  ? "  asked  the  Prince  of  Cleves. 

"  As  noble  as  yourself,"  answered  the  kneeling  steel. 

"  Who  answers  for  thee  1 " 

"  I,  Karl,  Margrave  of  Godesberg,  his  father  ! "  said  the  knight 
on  the  right  hand,  lifting  up  his  visor. 

"  And  I — Ludwig,  Count  of  Hombourg,  his  godfather ! "  said 
the  knight  on  the  left,  doing  likewise. 

The  kneeling  knigiit  lifted  up  his  visor  now,  and  looked  on 
Helen. 

"/  Imejv  it  was"  said  she,  and  fainted  as  she  saw  Otto  the 
Archer. 

But  she  was  soon  brought  to,  gentles,  as  I  have  small  need  to 
tell  ye.  In  a  very  few  days  after,  a  great  marri;ige  took  place  at 
Cleves,  under  the  patronage  of  Saint  Bugo,  Saint  Buftb,  and  Saint 
Bendigo.     After  the  marriage  ceremony,  the   happiest  and   hand- 


492  A    LEGEND    OF    THE    RHINE 

somest  pair  in  tlie  world  drove  off  in  a  chaise-and-four,  to  pass  the 
honeymoon  at  Kissingen.  The  Lady  Theodora,  whom  we  left 
locked  up  in  her  convent  a  long  while  since,  was  prevailed  upon  to 
come  back  to  Godesberg,  where  she  was  reconciled  to  her  husband. 
Jealous  of  her  daughter-in-law,  she  idolised  her  son,  and  spoiled  all 
her  little  grandchildren.  And  so  all  are  happy,  and  my  simple 
tale  is  done. 

I  read  it  in  an  old  old  book,  in  a  mouldy  old  circulating  library. 
'Twas  written  in  the  French  tongue,  by  the  noble  Alexandre 
Dumas ;  but  'tis  probable  that  he  stole  it  from  some  other,  and 
that  the  other  had  filched  it  from  a  former  tale-teller.  For  nothing 
is  new  under  the  sun.  Things  die  and  are  reproduced  only.  And 
so  it  is  that  the  forgotten  tale  of  the  great  Dumas  reappears  under 
the  signature  of  Theresa  MacWhirter. 

Whistlebinkie,  N.B.  :  December  1. 


CHARACTER     SKETCHES 


CHARACTER    SKETCHES 


CAPTAIN  ROOK  AND  MR.  PIGEON 

THE  statistic-mongers  and  dealers  in  geography  have  calculated 
to  a  nicety  how  many  quartern  loaves,  bars  of  iron,  pigs  of 
lead,  sacks  of  wool,  Turks,  Quakers,  Methodists,  Jews, 
Catholics,  and  Church-of-England  men  are  consumed  or  ijroduced 
in  the  different  countries  of  this  wicked  world  :  I  should  like  to  see 
an  accurate  table  showing  the  rogues  and  dui)es  of  each  nation ;  the 
calculation  would  form  a  pretty  matter  fir  a  philosopher  to  speculate 
upon.  The  mind  loves  to  repose  and  broo<ls  benevolently  over  this 
expanded  theme.  What  thieves  are  there  in  Paris,  0  heavens  !  and 
what  a  power  of  rogues  witli  pigtails  and  mandarin  buttons  at 
Pekin  !  What  crowds  of  swindlers  are  there  at  this  very  moment 
pursuing  their  trade  at  St.  Petersburg  !  how  many  scoundrels  are 
saying  their  jirayers  alongside  of  Don  Carlos  I  how  many  scores  are 
jobbing  under  the  jiretty  nose  of  Queen  Christina !  what  an  in- 
ordinate number  of  rascals  is  there,  to  be  sure,  i)uffing  tobacco  and 
drinking  flat  small-beer  in  all  the  capitals  of  Germany ;  or  else, 
without  a  rag  to  their  ebony  backs,  swigging  quass  out  of  cala- 
bashes, and  smeared  over  with  palm-oil,  lolling  at  tlie  doors  of  clay 
huts  in  the  sunny  city  of  Timbuetoo  !  It  is  not  necessary  to  make 
any  more  topographical  allusions,  or,  for  illustrating  the  above 
position,  to  go  through  the  whole  Gazetteer  ;  but  he  is  a  bad  philo 
sopher  who  has  not  all  these  things  in  mind,  and  does  not  in  liis 
speculations  or  his  estimate  of  mankind  duly  consider  and  weigh 
them.  And  it  is  fine  and  consolatory  to  think  that  thoughtful  Nature, 
which  has  provided  sweet  flowers  for  the  humming  bee;  fair  running 
streams  for  glittering  fish  ;  store  of  kids,  deer,  goats,  and  otiier  fresh 
meat  for  roaring  lions  ;  for  active  cats,  mice ;  for  mice,  cheese,  and 
so  on ;  establisliing  throughout  the  whole  of  her  realm  the  great 
doctrine  that  where  a  demand  is,  tliere  will  be  a  supply  (see  the 
romances  of  Adam  Smith,  Malthus,  and  Piicardo,  ancl  the  philoso- 
13 


496  CHARACTER    SKETCHES 

phical  works  of  Miss  Martineaii)  :  I  saj'  it  is  consolatorj-  to  think 
that,  as  Nature  lias  provided  flies  for  the  food  of  fishes,  and  flowers 
for  bees,  so  she  has  created  fools  for  rogues ;  and  thus  the  scheme  is 
consistent  throughout.  Yes,  observation,  with  extensive  view,  will 
discover  Captain'  Rooks  all  over  the  world,  and  ]\Ir.  Pigeons  made 
for  their  benefit.  Wherever  shines  the  sun,  you  are  sure  to  find 
Folly  basking  in  it ;  and  knavery  is  the  shadow  at  Folly's  heels. 

It  is  not^  however,  necessary  to  go  to  St.  Petersburg  or  Peldn 
for  rogues  (and  in  truth  I  don't  know  whether  the  Timbuctoo 
Captain  Rooks  prefer  cribbage  or  billiards).  "  We  are  not  birds," 
as  the  Irishman  says,  "  to  be  in  half-a-dozen  places  at  once  ; "  so  let 
us  pretermit  all  considerations  of  rogues  in  other  countries,  examin- 
ing only  those  who  flourish  under  our  very  noses.  I  have  travelled 
much,  and  seen  many  men  and  cities  :  and,  in  truth,  I  think  that  our 
country  of  England  produces  the  best  soldiers,  sailors,  razors,  tailors, 
brewers,  hatters,  and  rogues  of  all.  Especially  there  is  no  cheat  like 
an  English  cheat.  Our  society  produces  them  in  the  greatest  numl^ers 
as  well  as  of  the  greatest  excellence.  We  supply  all  Eurojic  with 
them.  I  defy  you  to  point  out  a  great  city  of  the  Continent  where 
half-a-dozen  of  them  are  not  to  be  found :  proofs  of  our  enterprise 
and  samples  of  our  home  manufacture.  Try  Rome,  Cheltenham, 
Baden,  Toeplitz,  Madrid,  or  Tzarskoselo :  I  have  been  in  every  one 
of  them,  and  give  you  my  honour  that  the  Englishman  is  the  best 
rascal  to  be  found  in  all :  better  than  your  eager  Frenchman  ;  your 
swaggering  Irishman,  with  a  rod  velvet  waistcoat  and  red  whiskers ; 
your  grave  Spaniard,  with  horrid  goggle  eyes  and  ])nifuse  diamond 
shirt-pins ;  your  tallow-faced  German  baron,  with  white  moustache 
and  double  chin,  fat,  pudgy,  dirty  fingers,  and  gi-eat  gold  thumb- 
ring  ;  better  even  than  your  nondescript  Russian — swindler  and  spy 
as  he  is  by  loyalty  and  education— the  most  dangerous  antagonist 
we  have.  AVho  has  the  best  coat  even  at  Vienna?  who  has  the 
neatest  britzska  at  Baden  1  who  drinks  the  best  champagne  at  Paris? 
Captain  Rook,  to  be  sure,  of  Her  Britannic  Majesty's  service  : — he 
has  been  of  the  service,  that  is  to  say,  but  often  finds  it  convenient 
to  sell  out. 

The  life  of  a  blackleg,  which  is  the  name  contemptuously  apjilied 
to  Captain  Rook  in  his  own  coiuitry,  is  such  an  easy,  comfortable, 
careless,  merry  one,  that  I  can't  conceive  why  all  the  world  do  not 
turn  Captain  Rooks  ;  unless,  maybe,  there  arc  some  mysteries  and 
difficulties  in  it  which  the  vulgar  know  nothing  of,  and  which  only 
men  of  real  genius  can  overcome.  Call  on  Captain  Rook  in  the 
day  (in  London,  he  lives  about  St.  James's ;  abroad,  he  has  the 
very  best  rooms  in  the  very  best  hotels),  and  you  will  find  him 
at  one  o'clock  dressed  in  the  very  finest  rohe-de-chmnhrc,  before  a 


CAPTAIN    ROOK   AND    MR.   PIGEON  497 

breakfast-table  covered  with  the  prettiest  patties  and  delicacies 
possible ;  smoking,  perhaps,  one  of  the  biggest  meerschaum  pipes 
you  ever  saw ;  reading,  possibly,  the  Mornrnrj  Post,  or  a  novel  (lie 
has  only  one  volume  in  his  whole  room,  and  that  from  a  circulating 
library) ;  or  having  his  hair  dressed ;  or  talking  to  a  tailor  about 
waistcoat  patterns ;  or  driidcing  soda-water  with  a  glass  of  sherry ; 
all  this  he  does  every  morning,  and  it  does  not  seem  very  difficult, 
and  lasts  until  three.  At  three,  he  goes  to  a  horse-dealer's,  and 
lounges  there  for  half-an-hour ;  at  four  he  is  to  be  seen  at  the 
window  of  his  Club ;  at  five,  he  is  cantering  and  curvetting  in 
Hyde  Park  with  one  or  two  more  (he  does  not  know  any  ladies, 
but  has  many  male  acquaintances  :  some,  stout  old  gentlemen  riding 
cobs,  who  knew  his  family,  and  give  him  a  surly  grunt  of  recogni- 
tion ;  some,  very  young  lads  with  pale  dissolute  faces,  little  mous- 
taches perhaps,  or  at  least  little  tufts  on  their  chin,  who  hail  him 
eagerly  as  a  man  of  fashion)  :  at  seven,  he  has  a  dinner  at  "  Long's  " 
or  at  the  "Clarendon";  and  so  to  bed  very  likely  at  five  in  the 
morning,  after  a  quiet  game  of  wliist,  broiled  bones,  and  punch. 

Perhaps  he  dines  early  at  a  tavern  in  Covent  Garden  ;  after 
which,  you  will  see  him  at  the  theatre  in  a  private  box  (Captain 
Rook  affects  the  01ym];)ic  a  good  deal).  In  the  box,  besides  him- 
self, you  will  remark  a  young  man — very  young — one  of  the  lads 
who  spoke  to  him  in  the  Park  this  morning,  and  a  couple  of  lailies : 
one  shabby,  melancholy,  raw-boned,  with  muulierless  small  white 
ringlets,  large  hands  and  feet,  and  a  faded  light-blue  silk  gown ; 
she  has  a  large  cap,  trimmed  Avith  yellow,  and  all  S(_irts  of  crumpled 
flowers  and  greasy  blonde  lace ;  she  wears  large  gilt  earrings,  and 
sits  back,  and  nobody  speaks  to  her,  and  she  to  nobody,  except  to 
say,  "Law,  Maria,  liow  M'ell  you  do  look  to-night;  there's  a  man 
opposite  has  been  staring  at  you  this  three  hours  ;  I'm  blest  if  it 
isn't  him  as  we  saw  in  the  Park,  dear  !  " 

"  I  wish,  Hanna,  you'd  'old  your  tongue,  and  not  bother  me  about 
the  men.  You  don't  believe  Miss  'Ickman,  Freddy,  do  you  1 "  says 
Maria,  smiling  fondly  on  Freddy.  Maria  is  sitting  in  front :  she 
says  she  is  twenty-three,  though  Miss  Hickman  knows  very  well  she 
is  thirty-one  (Freddy  is  just  of  age).  She  wears  a  ])urple  velvet 
gown,  three  different  gold  l)racelets  on  each  arm,  as  many  rings  on 
each  finger  of  each  hand ;  to  one  is  hooked  a  gold  smelling-bottle : 
she  has  an  enormous  fan,  a  laced  pocket-handkerchief,  a  Cashmere 
shawl,  which  is  continually  falling  off,  and  exposing,  very  unneces- 
sarily, a  pair  of  very  white  shoulders  :  she  talks  loud,  always  lets 
her  playbill  drop  into  the  pit,  and  smells  most  pungently  of  Mr. 
Delcroix's  shop.  After  this  description  it  is  not  at  all  necessary  to 
say  who  Maria  is  :  Miss  Hickman  is  her  companion,  and  they  live 


498  CHARACTER    SKETCHES 

together  in  a  very  snug  little  house  in  Mayfair,  wliich  has  just  been 
new-furnished  a  la  Louis  Quatorze  by  Freddy,  as  we  are  positively 
informed.  It  is  even  said  that  the  little  carriage,  with  two  little 
white  ponies,  which  Maria  drives  herself  in  such  a  fascinating  way 
through  the  Park,  was  purchased  for  her  by  Freddy  too ;  ay,  and 
that  Captain  Rook  got  it  for  him— a  great  bargain,  of  course. 

Such  is  Captain  Rook's  lifc.  Can  anything  be  more  easy? 
Suppose  Maria  says,  "  Come  home.  Rook,  and  heat  a  cold  chicken 
with  us,  and  a  glass  of  hiced  champagne ; "  and  suppose  he  goes, 
and  after  chicken — ^just  for  fun — Maria  proposes  a  little  chicken- 
hazai-d  ; — she  only  plays  for  shillings,  while  Freddy,  a  little  bolder, 
won't  mind  half-pound  stakes  himself.  Is  there  any  great  harm  in 
all  this?  Well,  after  half-an-hour  Maria  gi-ows  tired,  and  Miss 
Hickman  has  been  nodding  asleep  in  tlie  corner  long  ago ;  so  off  the 
two  ladies  set,  candle  in  lian<l. 

"  D — n  it,  Fred,"  says  Captain  Rook,  pouring  out  for  that  young 
gentleman  his  fifteenth  glass  of  champagne,  "what  luck  you  are  in, 
if  you  did  but  know  how  to  back  it !  " 

What  more  natural,  and  even  kind,  of  Rook  than  to  say  this  ? 
Fred  is  evidently  an  inexperienced  player;  and  every  experienced 
player  knows  that  there  is  nothing  like  backing  your  luck.  Freddy 
does.  Well,  fortune  is  proverbially  variable ;  and  it  is  not  at  all 
surprising  that  Freddy,  after  having  had  so  much  luck  at  the  com- 
mencement of  the  evening,  should  have  the  tables  turned  on  him  at 
some  time  or  other. — Freddy  loses. 

It  is  deuced  unlucky,  to  be  sure,  that  he  should  have  won  all 
the  little  coups  and  lost  all  the  great  ones  ;  but  there  is  a  plan  which 
the  commonest  play-man  knows,  an  infallible  means  of  retrieving 
yourself  at  play :  it  is  sim|)ly  doubling  your  stake.  Say,  you  lose 
a  guinea  :  you  bet  two  guineas,  which,  if  you  win,  you  win  a  guinea 
and  your  original  stake  :  if  you  lose,  you  have  but  to  bet  four  guineas 
on  the  tliird  stake,  eight  on  the  fourth,  sixteen  on  the  fifth,  thirty- 
two  on  the  sixth,  and  so  on.  It  stands  to  reason  that  you  cannot 
lose  alivays  ;  and  the  very  first  time  you  win,  all  your  losings  are 
made  up  to  you.  There  is  but  one  drawback  to  this  infallible  process  : 
if  you  begin  at  a  guinea,  double  every  time  you  lose,  and  lose  fifteen 
times,  you  will  have  lost  exactly  sixteen  thousand  three  hundred 
and  eighty-four  guineas ;  a  sum  which  i)robably  exceeds  the  amount 
of  your  yearly  income  : — mine  is  considerably  under  that  figure. 

Freddy  does  not  play  this  game  then,  yet ;  but  lieing  a  poor- 
spirited  creature,  as  we  have  seen  he  nmst  be  by  being  afraid  to  win, 
he  is  equally  jjoor-spirited  when  he  begins  to  lose  :  he  is  frightened ; 
that  is,  increases  his  stakes,  and  backs  his  ill-luck  :  when  a  man  does 
this,  it  is  all  over  with  him. 


CAPTAIN    ROOK   AND    MR.   PIGEON  499 

AVheii  Captain  Rook  goes  home  (the  sun  is  peering  through  the 
shutters  of  the  httle  drawing-room  in  Curzon  Street,  and  the  ghastly 
footboy — oh,  how  bleared  his  eyes  look  as  he  opens  the  door  !) — • 
when  Captain  Rook  goes  home,  he  has  Freddy's  I.O.U.'s  in  liis  pocket 
to  the  amount,  say,  of  three  hundred  pounds.  Some  people  say  that 
Maria  has  half  of  the  money  when  it  is  paid  ;  but  this  I  don't  believe  : 
is  Captain  Rook  the  kind  of  fellow  to  give  up  a  purse  when  his  hand 
has  once  clawed  liold  of  it  1 

Be  this,  however,  true  or  not,  it  concerns  us  very  little.  The 
Captain  goes  home  to  King  StreeP,  plunges  into  bed  niuch  too  tired 
to  say  his  prayers,  and  wakes  the  next  morning  at  twelve  to  go 
over  such  another  day  as  we  have  just  chalked  out  for  him.  As 
for  Freddy,  not  pojipy,  nor  mandragora,  nor  all  the  soda-water  at 
the  chemist's  can  ever  medicine  him  to  that  sweet  sleep  which  he 
might  have  had  but  for  his  loss.  "  //"  I  had  but  played  my  king  of 
hearts,"  sighed  Fred,  "  and  kept  back  iny  trump  ;  but  there's  no 
standing  against  a  fellow  who  turns  up  a  king  seven  times  running  : 
if  I  had  even  but  pulled  up  when  Thomas  (curse  him  !)  brought  up 
that  infernal  Curac^oa  punch,  I  should  have  saved  a  couple  of  hundred," 
and  so  on  go  Freddy's  lamentations.  0  luckless  Freddy  !  dismal 
Freddy  !  silly  gaby  of  a  Freddy  !  you  are  hit  now,  and  there  is  no 
cure  for  you  but  bleeding  you  almost  to  death's  door.  The  homoeo- 
pathic maxim  of  similia  similiJjns — which  means,  I  believe,  that  you 
are  to  be  cured  "  by  a  hair  of  the  dog  that  bit  you  " — must  be  put 
in  practice  with  regard  to  Freddy — only  not  in  homoeopathic  infini- 
tesimal doses  :  no  hair  of  the  dog  that  bit  him  :  but  vice  versa,  the 
dog  of  the  hair  that  tickled  him.  Freddy  has  liegun  to  play — a 
mere  trifie  at  first,  but  he  must  play  it  out ;  he  must  go  the  whole 
dog  now,  or  there  is  no  chance  for  him.  He  must  play  until  he  can 
play  no  more ;  he  u'iil  play  until  he  has  not  a  shilhng  left  to  play 
with,  when,  perhaps,  he  may  turn  out  an  honest  man,  though  the 
odds  are  against  him  :  the  betting  is  in  favour  of  his  being  a  swindler 
always ;  a  rich  or  a  poor  one,  as  the  case  may  be.  I  need  not  tell 
Freddy's  name,  I  think,  now ;  it  stands  on  his  card  : — • 


Mr.   FREDERICK   PIGEON, 


LONG  S   HOTEL. 


I  have  said  the  chances  are  that  Frederick  Pigeon,  Esquire,  will 
become  a  ricli  or  a  poor  swindler,  though  the  first  chance,  it  must 


500  CHARACTER    SKETCHES 

be  confessed,  is  very  remote.  I  once  heard  an  actor,  who  could  not 
write,  speak,  or  even  read  Enghsh  ;  who  was  not  fit  for  any  trade  in 
the  world,  and  had  not  the  "^  nous  "  to  keep  an  apple-stall,  and 
scarcely  even  enough  sense  to  make  a  Member  of  Parliament ;  I 
once,  I  say,  heard  an  actor, — whose  only  qualifications  were  a  large 
pair  of  legs,  a  large  voice,  and  a  very  large  neck,^ curse  his  fate  and 
his  profession,  by  which,  do  what  he  would,  he  could  only  make 
eight  guineas  a  week.  "  No  men,"  said  he,  with  a  great  deal  of 
justice,  "  Avere  so  ill  paid  as  '  dramatic  artists ' ;  they  laboured  for 
nothing  all  their  youth,  and  had 'no  provision  for  old  age."  With 
this,  he  sighed,  and  called  for  (it  was  on  a  Saturday  night,  the  forty- 
ninth  glass  of  brandy-and-water  which  he  had  drunk  in  the  course 
of  the  week. 

The  excitement  of  his  profession,  I  make  no  doubt,  caused  my 
friend  Claptrap  to  consume  this  quantity  of  spirit-and-water,  besides 
beer  in  the  morning,  after  rehearsal ;  and  I  could  not  help  musing 
over  his  fate.  It  is  a  hard  one.  To  eat,  drink,  wdrk  a  little,  and 
be  jolly ;  to  be  paid  twice  as  much  as  you  are  worth,  and  then  to 
go  to  ruin  ;  to  drop  off  the  tree  wlien  you  are  swelled  out,  seedy, 
and  over-ripe ;  and  to  lie  rutting  in  the  nuid  underneath,  until  at 
last  you  mingle  with  it. 

Now,  badly  as  the  actor  is  paid  (and  the  reader  will  the  more 
readily  i)ardon  the  above  episode,  because,  in  reality,  it  has  nothing 
to  do  with  the  subject  in  hand),  and  luckless  as  his  fate  is,  the  lot 
of  the  poor  blackleg  is  cast  lower  still.  You  never  hear  of  a  rich 
gambler ;  or  of  one  wlio  wins  in  the  end.  Where  does  all  the 
money  go  to  Avhicli  is  lost  among  them  ?  Did  you  ever  play  a  game 
at  loo  for  sixpences  ?  At  the  end  of  the  night  a  great  many  of  those 
small  coins  have  been  lost,  and  in  consequence,  won.  But  ask  the 
table  all  round  :  one  man  has  won  tlirec  shillings  ;  two  have  neither 
lost  nor  won ;  one  rather  tliinks  he  has  lost ;  and  the  three  others 
have  lost  two  pounds  each.  Is  not  this  the  fact,  known  to  everj'- 
body  who  indulges  in  round  games,  and  especially  the  noble  game 
of  loo  1  I  often  think  that  the  devil's  books,  as  cards  are  called, 
are  let  out  to  us  from  Old  Nick's  circulating  library,  and  that  he 
lays  his  paw  upon  a  certain  part  of  tlie  winnings,  and  carries  it  off 
privily  :  else,  what  becomes  of  all  the  money  ? 

For  instance,  there  is  the  gentleman  whom  the  newspapers  call 
"  a  noble  earl  of  sporting  celebrity  " ; — if  he  has  lost  a  shilling, 
according  to  the  newspaper  accounts,  he  has  lost  fifty  millions :  he 
drops  fifty  thousand  pounds  at  the  Derby,  just  as  you  and  I  would 
lay  down  twopence-halfpenny  for  half  an  ounce  of  Macabaw.  Who 
has  won  these  millions  ?  Is  It  Mr.  Crockford,  or  Mr.  Bond,  or  Mr. 
Salon-des-Etrangers  ?    (I  do  not  call  these  latter  gentlemen  gamblei-s, 


CAPTAIN    ROOK   AND    MR.   PIGEON  501 

for  their  speculation  is  a  certainty) ;  but  who  wins  his  money,  and 
everybody  else's  money  who  plays  and  loses  1  Much  money  is 
staked  in  the  absence  of  Mr. *  Crockford ;  many  notes  are  given 
without  the  interference  of  tlie  Bonds;  there  are  hundreds  of 
thousands  of  gamblers  who  are  e'trangers  even  to  the  Salon-des- 
Etrangers. 

No,  my  dear  sir,  it  is  not  in  tlic  public  gambling-houses  that  the 
money  is  lost ;  it  is  not  in  them  that  your  virtue  is  chiefly  in 
danger.  Better  by  half  lose  your  income,  your  fortune,  or  your 
master's  money,  in  a  decent  public  hell,  than  in  tlie  private  society 
of  sucli  men  as  my  friend  Cajitain  Rouk.  But  we  are  again  and 
again  digressing :  the  point  is,  is  the  Captain's  trade  a  good  one, 
and  does  it  yield  tolerably  good  interest  for  outlay  and  ca{)ital  1 

To  the  latter  question  first : — at  this  very  season  of  May,  when 
the  Rooks  are  very  young,  have  you  not,  my  dear  friend,  often 
tasted  them  in  jucs  ? — they  are  then  so  tender  that  you  cannot  tell 
the  difierence  between  theni  and  pigeons.  So,  in  like  manner,  our 
Rook  has  been  in  his  youth  undistinguishaljle  from  a  pigeon.  He 
does  as  he  has  been  done  by  :  yea,  he  has  been  plucked  as  even  now 
he  plucks  his  friend  Mr.  Frederick  Pigeon.  Say  that  he  began  the 
world  with  ten  thousand  pounds  :  every  maravedi  of  this  is  gone ; 
and  may  be  considered  as  the  capital,  which  he  has  sacrificed  to 
learn  his  trade.  Having  spent  £10,000,  then,  on  an  annuity  o 
£G50,  he  must  Liok  to  a  larger  interest  for  his  money — say  fifteen 
hundred,  two  thousand,  or  three  thousand  pounds,  tleeently  to  rei)ay 
his  risk  and  labour.  Besides  the  money  sunk  in  the  first  place, 
his  profession  requires  continual  annual  outlays,  as  thus — 

Horses,    carriages    (including    Epsom,    Goodwood, 
Ascot,  &c.)  ...... 

Lodgings,  servants,  and  board       .... 

Watering-places,  and  touring         .... 

Dinners  to  give  ...... 

Pocket-money     ....... 

Gloves,  handkerchiefs,  perfumery,  and  tobacco 

(very  moderate)  ...... 

Tailor's  bills  (£100  say,  never  paid) 

Total 

I  defy  any  man  to  carry  on  the  profession  in  a  decent  way  under 
the  above  sum  :  ten  thousand  sunk,  and  sixteen  hundred  amiual 
expenses  ;  no,  it  is  7iot  a  good  profession  :  it  is  not  good  interest  for 
one's  money ;  it  is  not  a  fair  remuneration  for  a  gentleman  of  birth, 


£500 

0 

0 

350 

0 

0 

300 

0 

0 

150 

0 

0 

150 

0 

0 

150 

0 

0 

0 

0 

0 

£1,600 

0 

0 

502  CHARACTER    SKETCHES 

industry,  and  genius ;  and  my  friend  Claptrap,  who  growls  about 
his  pay,  may  bless  his  eyes  that  he  was  not  bom  a  gentleman  and 
bred  up  to\such  an  unprofitable  calling  as  this.  Considering  his 
trouble,  his  outlay,  his  birth,  and  breeding,  the  Captain  is  most 
wickedly  and  basely  rewarded.  And  wlien  he  is  obliged  to  retreat, 
when  his  hand  trembles,  his  credit  is  fallen,  his  bills  laughed  at  by 
every  money-lender  in  Europe,  his  tailors  rampant  and  inexorable 
—in  fact,  when  the  coiqye  of  life  will  sauter  for  him  no  more— 
who  will  help  the  play-worn  veteran?  As  Mitchel  sings  after 
Aristophanes — 

"  In  glory  he  was  seen,  when  his  years  as  yet  were  green; 
But  now  when  his  dotage  is  on  him, 
God  help  him  ;— for  no  eye  of  those  who  pass  him  by 
Throws  a  look  of  compassion  upon  him." 

Who  indeed  will  help  him?— not  his  family,  for  he  has  bled  his 
father,  his  imcle,  his  old  grandmother ;  he  has  had  slices  out  of  his 
sisters'  portions,  and  quarrelled  -n-ith  his  brothers-in-law;  the  old 
people  are  dead;  the  young  ones  hate  him,  and  will  give  him 
nothing.  Who  will  help  him  1 — not  his  friends  :  in  the  first  place, 
my  dear  sir,  a  man's  friends  very  seldom  do  :  in  the  second  place,  it 
is  Captain  Rook's  business  not  to  keep,  but  to  give  up  his  friends. 
His  acquaintances  do  not  last  more  than  a  year :  the  time,  namely, 
during  which  he  is  employed  in  plucking  them  ;  then  they  part. 
Pigeon  has  not  a  single  feather  left  to  his  tail,  and  how  sliould  he 
help  Rook,  whom,  au  reste,  he  has  learned  to  detest  most  cordially, 
and  has  found  out  to  be  a  rascal  1  When  Rook's  ill  day  comes,  it  is 
simply  because  he  has  no  more  friends  :  he  has  exhausted  them  all, 
plucked  every  one  as  clean  as  the  palm  of  your  hand.  An<l  to 
arrive  at  this  conclusion,  Rook  has  been  spending  sixteen  hundred  a 
year,  and  the  prime  of  his  life,  and  has  moreover  sunk  ten  thousand 
pounds  !  Is  this  a  proper  reward  for  a  gentleman  ?  I  say  it  is  a 
sin  and  a  shame  that  an  Enghsh  gentleman  should  be  allowed  thus 
to  drop  down  the  stream  Avithout  a  single  hand  to  help  him. 

The  moral  of  the  above  remarks  I  take  to  be  this :  that  black- 
legging  is  as  bad  a  trade  as  can  be  ;  and  so  let  parents  and  guardians 
look  to  it,  and  not  apprentice  their  children  to  such  a  villainous 
scurvy  way  of  living. 

It  must  be  confessed,  however,  that  there  are  some  individuals 
who  have  for  the  profession  such  a  natural  genius,  that  no  entreaties 
or  example  of  parents  Avill  keep  them  from  it,  and  no  restraint  or 
occupation  occasioned  by  another  calling.  They  do  what  Christians 
do  not  do :  they  leave  all  to  follow  their  master  the  Devil ;  they 
cut  friends,  families,  and  good,  thriving,  i)rofitable  trades,  to  put 


CAPTAIN    ROOK   AND    MR.   PIGEON  503 

up  with  this  one,  that  is  both  unthrifty  and  un])rofitable.  They 
are  in  regiments :  ugly  whispers  about  certain  ini(hiight  games  at 
blind-hookey,  and  a  few  odd  bargains  in  horseflesh,  are  ])orne 
abroad,  and  Cornet  Rook  receives  the  gentlest  hint  in  the  world 
that  he  had  better  sell  out.  They  are  in  counting-houses  with  a 
promise  of  partnership,  for  which  papa  is  to  lay  down  a  handsome 
premium  ;  but  the  firm  of  H()l)bs,  Bobbs  &  Higgory  can  never 
admit  a  youn^^  gentleman  who  is  a  notorious  gambler,  is  much 
oftener  at  the  races  than  at  his  desk,  and  has  bills  daily  falling 
due  at  his  private  banker's.  The  father,  that  excellent  old  man, 
Sam  Rook,  so  well  known  on  'Change  in  the  war-time,  discovers, 
at  the  end  of  five  years,  that  his  son  has  spent  rather  more 
than  the  four  thousand  pounds  intended  for  his  partnership,  and 
cannot,  in  common  justice  to  his  other  thirteen  children,  give  him 
a  shilling  more.  A  pretty  pass  for  flash  young  Tom  Rook,  with 
four  horses  in  stable,  a  protemporaneous  Mrs.  Rook,  very  likely, 
in  an  establishment  near  the  Regent's  Park,  and  a  bill  ibr  three 
hundred  and  seventy-five  pounds  coming  due  on  the  fifth  of  next 
)nonth. 

Sometimes  young  Rook  is  destined  to  the  bar :  and  I  am  glad 
to  introduce  one  of  these  gentlemen  and  his  history  to  the  notice 
of  the  reader.  He  was  the  son  of  an  amiable  gentleman,  the 
Reverend  Athanasius  Rook,  who  took  high  honours  at  Cambridge  in 
the  year  '1  :  was  a  fellow  of  Trinity  in  the  year  '2  :  and  so  con- 
tinued a  fellow  and  tutor  of  the  College  until  a  living  fell  vacant, 
on  which  he  seized.  It  was  only  two  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  a 
year;  but  the  fact  is,  Athanasius  was  in  love.  Miss  Gregory,  a 
pretty,  denuire,  simjilc  governess  at  Miss  Mickle's  establishment  for 
young  ladies  iu  Cambridge  (where  the  reverend  gentleman  used  often 
of  late  to  take  his  tea),  had  caught  the  eye  of  the  honest  College 
tutor :  and  in  Trinity  walks,  and  up  and  down  the  Trumpingt(jn 
Road,  he  walked  with  her  (and  another  young  lady,  of  course), 
talked  with  her,  and  told  his  love. 

Miss  Gregory  had  not  a  rap,  as  might  be  imagined  ;  but  she 
loved  Athanasius  with  her  whole  soul  and  strength,  and  was  the 
most  orderly,  cheerful,  tender,  smiling,  bustling  little  wife  that  ever  a 
country  jiarson  was  blest  v^ithal.  Athanasius  took  a  couple  of  pupils 
at  a  couple  of  hundred  guineas  each,  and  so  made  out  a  snug  income  ; 
ay,  and  laid  by  for  a  rainy  day — a,  little  portion  for  Harriet,  when 
she  should  grow  up  and  marry,  and  a  hel])  for  Tom  at  college  and 
at  the  bar.  For  you  must  know  there  were  two  little  Rooks  now 
growing  in  the  rookery ;  and  very  happy  were  father  and  mother 
I  can  tell  you,  to  put  meat  down  their  tender  little  throats.  Oh, 
if  ever  a  man  was  good  and  happy,  it  was  Athanasius ;  if  ever  a 


504  CHARACTER    SKETCHES 

woman  was  happy  and  good,  it  was  his  wife  :  not  the  wliole  parish, 
not  the  whole  county,  not  the  whole  kingdom,  could  produce  such 
a  snug  rectory,  or  such  a  pleasant  vu'nage. 

Athanasius's  fame  as  a  scholar,  too,  was  great;  and  as  his 
charges  were  very  high,  and  as  he  received  but  two  pupils,  there 
was,  of  course,  much  anxiety  among  wealthy  parents  to  place  their 
children  under  his  care.  Future  squires,  bankers,  yea,  lords  and 
dukes,  came  to  profit  by  his  instructions,  and  werf  led  by  him 
gracefully  over  the  "Asses'  bridge"  into  the  sublime  regions  of 
matliematics,   or  through   the   syntax  into  the  pleasant    paths,  of 

classic  lore. 

In  the  midst  of  these  comi)anions,  Tom  Rook  grew  up ;  more 
fondled  and  petted,  of  course,  than  they ;  cleverer  than  they ;  as 
handsome,  dashing,  well  instructed  a  lad  for  his  years  as  ever  went 
to  College  to  be  a  senior  wrangler,  and  went  down  without  any 
such  honour. 

Fancy,  then,  our  young  gentleman  installed  at  College,  whither 
his  flither  has  taken  him,  and  with  fond  veteran  recollections  has 
surveyed  hall  and  grass-plots,  and  the  old  porter,  and  the  old 
fountain,  and  tlie  old  rooms  in  which  he  used  to  live.  Fancy  tlie 
sobs  of  good  little  Mrs.  Rook,  as  she  parted  with  her  boy;  and 
the  tears  of  sweet  pale  Harriet,  as  she  clung  round  his  neck,  and 
brought  him  (in  a  silver  paper,  slobbered  with  many  tears)  a 
little  crimson  silk  purse  (witli  two  guineas  of  her  own  in  it,  poor 
thing !).  Fancy  all  this,  and  fiincy  young  Tom,  sorry  too,  but  yet 
restless  and  glad,  panting  for  tlie  new  life  opening  upon  him  ;  the 
freedom,  the  joy  of  the  manly  struggle  for  fame,  wliich  he  vows 
he  will  win.  Tom  Rook,  in  other  words,  is  installed  at  Trinity 
College,  attends  lectures,  reads  at  home,  goes  to  chapel,  us^  wine- 
parties  moderately,  and  bids  fair  to  be  one  of  the  tojtmost  men  of 
his  year. 

Tom  goes  down  for  the  Christmas  vacation.  (What  a  man  he 
is  grown,  and  how  his  sister  and  mother  quarrel  which  shall  walk 
with  him  down  the  village;  and  wliat  stories  the  oM  ireutleman 
lugs  out  with  his  old  port,  and  how  he  quotes  ..Eschylus,  to  be 
sure  !)  The  pupils  are  away  too,  and  the  three  have  Tom  in  quiet. 
Alas  !  I  fear  the  place  has  grown  a  little  too  quiet  for  Tom  :  how- 
ever, he  reads  very  stoutly  of  mornings  ;  and  sister  Harriet  peeps 
with  a  great  deal  of  wonder  into  huge  books  of  scribbliug-paper, 
containing  many  strange  diagrams,  and  complicated  arningements 
of  x's  and  y's. 

May  comes,  and  the  College  examinations ;  the  delighted  parent 
receives  at  breakfast,  on  the  lOtli  of  that  mouth,  two  letters,  as 
follows : — 


CAPTAIN    ROOK   AND    MR.   PIGEON  505 

From  the  Rev.  Solomon  Snorter  to  the  Rev.  Athanashis  Rook. 

"  Trinity,  i)/a;/ 10. 

"Deak  Credo,* — I  wish  you  joy.  Your  lad  is  the  best  man 
of  his  year,  and  I  hope  in  four  more  to  see  him  at  our  table.  In 
classics  he  is,  my  dear  friend,  facile  princej^s  ;  in  matlieniatics  he 
was  run  hard  {entre  nous)  by  a  lad  of  the  name  of  Snick,  a  West- 
moreland man  and  a  sizer.  We  nuist  keep  u])  Thomas  to  his 
mathematics,  and  I  have  no  doubt  we  shall  make  a  fellow  and  a 
wrangler  of  him. 

"I  send  you  his  college  bill,  £105,  10s.  :  rather  heavy,  but  this 
is  the  first  term,  and  that  you  know  is  expensive :  I  shall  be  glad 
to  give  you  a  receipt  for  it.  By  the  way,  the  young  man  is  rather 
too  fond  of  amusement,  and  lives  with  a  very  expensive  set.  Give 
him  a  lecture  on  this  score. — Yours,  Sol.  Snorter." 

Next  comes  Mr.  Tom  Rook's  own  letter :  it  is  long,  modest ; 
we  only  give  the  postscript : — 

"  P.S. — Dear  Father,  I  forgot  to  say  that,  as  I  live  in  the  very 
best  set  in  the  University  (Lord  Bagwig,  the  Duke's  eldest  son  you 
know,  vows  he  will  give  me  a  living),  I  have  been  led  into  one  or 
two  expenses  which  will  frighten  you  :  I  lost  £30  to  the  Honourable 
Mr.  Deuceace  (a  son  of  Lord  Cral)s)  at  Bagwig's,  the  other  day,  at 
dinner ;  and  owe  <£54  more  for  desserts  and  hiring  horses,  which  I 
can't  send  into  Snorter's  bill.f  Hiring  horses  is  so  deuced  expensive; 
next  term  I  must  have  a  nag  of  my  own,  that's  positive." 

The  Reverend  Athaua.sius  read  the  postscript  witli  much  less 
gusto  than  the  letter :  however,  Tom  has  done  his  duty,  and  the 
old  gentleman  won't  balk  his  i)leasiire ;  so  he  sends  him  £100, 
with  a  "  God  bless  you  ! "  and  JManuna  adds,  in  a  postscrijtt,  that 
"he  must  always  keej)  well  with  his  aristocratic  friends,  for  he  was 
made  only  for  the  best  society." 

A  year  or  two  jxisses  on :  Tom  comes  home  for  the  vacations ; 
but  Tom  has  sadly  changed ;  he  has  grown  haggard  and  pale.  At 
the  second  year's  examination  (owing  to  an  unlucky  illness)  Tom 
was  not  classed  at  all ;  and  Snick,  the  Westmoreland  man,  lias 
carried  everything  before  him.  Tom  drinks  more  after  dinner  than 
his  father  likes ;    he   is   always   riding  about  and  dining  in  the 

*  This  is  most  probably  a  joke  on  the  Christian  name  of  Mr.  Rook. 

t  It  is,  or  was,  the  custom  for  young  gentlemen  at  Cambridge  to  have 
unlimited  credit  with  tradesmen,  whom  the  College  tutors  paid,  and  then  sent 
the  bills  to  the  parents  of  the  young  men. 


5o6  CHARACTER    SKETCHES 

neighbourhood,  and  coming  home,  quite  odd,  his  mother  says — ill- 
humoured,  unsteady  on  his  feet,  and  husky  in  his  talk.  The 
Reverend  Athanasius  begins  to  grow  very  very  grave :  they  have 
high  words,  even  the  father  and  son ;  and  oh  !  how  Harriet  and 
her  mother  tremble  and  listen  at  the  study-door  when  these  disputes 
are  going  on  ! 

The  last  term  of  Tom's  undergraduateship  arrives :  he  is  in  ill 
liealtli,  but  he  will  make  a  mighty  effort  to  retrieve  himself  for  his 
degree ;  and  early  in  the  cold  winter's  morning. — late,  late  at  night 
— he  toils  over  his  books  :  and  the  end  is  that,  a  month  before  the 
examination,  Thomas  Rook,  Esqiiire,  has  a  brain  fever,  and  Mrs. 
Rook,  and  Miss  Rook,  and  the  Reverend  Atlianasius  Rook,  are  all 
lodging  at  the  "  Hoop,"  an  inn  in  Cambridge  town,  and  day  and 
niglit  round  the  couch  of  poor  Tom. 

•  •■•••• 

0  sin,  woe,  repentance  !  0  touching  reconciliation  and  burst  of 
tears  on  the  jiart  of  son  and  father,  when  one  morning  at  the  par- 
sonage, after  Tom's  recovery,  the  uld  gentleman  produces  a  bundle 
of  receipts,  and  says,  with  a  broken  voice,  "  There,  boy,  don't  be 
vexed  about  your  debts.  Boys  will  be  boys,  I  know,  and  I  have 
paid  all  demands."  Everybody  cries  in  the  house  at  this  news ; 
the  mother  and  daughter  most  profusely,  even  Mrs,  Stokes  the  old 
housekeeper,  who  shakes  master's  hand,  and  actually  kisses  Mr.  Tom. 

Well,  Tom  begins  to  read  a  little  for  his  fellowshiji,  but  in 
vain ;  he  is  beaten  by  Mr.  Snick,  the  Westmoreland  man.  He 
has  no  hopes  of  a  living ;  Lord  Bagwig's  promises  were  all  moon- 
shine. Tom  must  go  to  the  bar ;  and  his  father,  who  has  long 
left  off  taking  pupils,  must  take  them  again,  to  support  his  son  in 
London. 

Wliy  tell  you  what  happens  when  there?  Tom  lives  at  tlie 
West  End  of  the  town,  and  never  goes  near  the  Temple ;  Tom  goes 
to  Ascot  and  Epsom  along  with  his  great  friends ;  Tom  has  a  long 
bill  with  Mr.  Rymell,  another  long  bill  with  Mr.  Nugee ;  he  gets 
into  the  hands  of  the  Jews — and  his  father  rushes  up  to  London  on 
the  outside  of  the  coach  to  find  Tom  in  a  s])unging-house  in  Cursitor 
Street — the  nearest  approach  he  has  made  to  the  Temple  tluriug  his 
three  years'  residence  in  London. 

1  don't  like  to  tell  you  the  rest  of  tlie  history.  The  Reverend 
Atlianasius  was  not  immortal,  and  he  died  a  year  after  his  visit  to 
the  spunging-house,  leaving  his  son  exactly  one  farthing,  and  his  wife 
one  hundred  pounds  a  year,  with  remainder  to  his  daughter.  But, 
Heaven  bless  you  !  the  poor  things  would  never  allow  Tom  to  want 
while  they  had  plenty,  and  they  sold  out  and  sold  out  the  three  thou- 
sand pounds,  until,  at  tlie  end  of  three  years,  there  did  not  remain 


CAPTAIN    ROOK   AND    MR.   PIGEON  507 

one  single  stiver  of  them  ;  and  now  Miss  Harriet  is  a  governess,  with 
sixty  pounds  a  year,  supporting  her  mother,  who  lives  uj^on  fifty. 

As  for  Tom,  he  is  a  regular  leg  now — leading  the  life  already 
described.  When  I  met  him  last  it  was  at  Baden,  Avhere  he  was 
on  a  professional  tour,  with  a  carriage,  a  courier,  a  valet,  a  con- 
federate, and  a  case  of  pistols.  He  has  been  in  five  duels,  he  has 
killed  a  man  who  spoke  lightly  about  his  honour ;  and  at  French  or 
Englisli  hazard,  at  billiards,  at  whist,  at  loo,  dearth,  blind  hookey, 
drawing  straws,  or  beggar-niy-neighbonr,  he  will  cheat  you — cheat 
you  for  a  hundred  pounds  or  for  a  guinea,  and  murder  you  afterwards 
if  you  like. 

Abroad,  our  friend  takes  military  rank,  and  calls  himself  Captain 
Rook  ;  when  asked  of  wliat  service,  he  says  he  was  with  Don  Carlos 
or  Queen  Christina ;  and  certain  it  is  that  he  was  absent  for  a 
couple  of  years  nobody  knows  Avhere  :  he  may  have  been  Avith  General 
Evans,  or  he  may  have  been  at  the  Sainte-P^lagic  in  Paris,  as  some 
people  vow  he  was. 

We  must  wind  up  this  paper  with  some  remarks  concerning 
poor  little  Pigeon.  Vanity  has  been  little  Pigeon's  failing  through 
life.  He  is  a  lincndraper's  son,  and  has  been  left  with  money :  and 
the  silly  fasliional)le  works  that  he  has  read,  and  the  silly  female 
relatives  that  he  has — (N.B.  All  young  men  Avith  money  have  silly 
flattering  she-relatives) — and  the  silly  trips  that  he  has  made  to 
watering-places,  Avhere  he  has  scraped  acquaintance  Avith  the  Honour- 
able Tom  Mountcoffee-house,  Lord  Ballyhoo]  y,  the  celebrated  German 
Prince,  Sweller  Mobskau,  and  their  like  (all  Captain  Rooks  in  their 
way),  liave  been  the  ruin  of  him. 

I  have  not  the  sliglitest  pity  in  the  world  for  little  Pigeon. 
Look  at  him  !  See  in  Avhat  absurd  finery  the  little  prig  is  dressed. 
Wine  makes  his  poor  little  head  ache,  but  he  Avill  drink  because  it 
is  manly.  In  mortal  fear  he  puts  himself  behind  a  curvetting 
camelopard  of  a  cab-horse ;  or  perched  on  the  top  of  a  prancing 
dromedary,  is  borne  through  Rotten  Row,  when  he  would  give  the 
world  to  be  on  his  oAvn  sofo,  or  with  his  own  mamma  and  sisters, 
over  a  quiet  pool  of  commerce  and  a  cup  of  tea.  '  Hoav  riding 
does  scarify  his  poor  little  legs,  and  shake  his  poor  little  sides  ! 
Smoking,  how  it  does  turn  his  little  stomach  inside  out  ;  and  yet 
'  smoke  he  Avill :  Sweller  Mobskau  smokes  ;  Mountcoftee-house  don't 
mind  a  cigar  ;  and  as  for  Ballyhooly,  he  will  puff"  you  a  dozen 
in  a  day,  and  says  very  truly  that  Pontet  Avon't  sujjply  him 
with  near  sucli  good  ones  as  he  sells  Pigeon.  The  fact  is,  that 
Pontet  voAved  seven  years  ago  not  to  giA^e  his  Lordship  a  sixpence 
more  credit ;  and  so  the  good-natured  nobleman  always  helps  himself 
out  of  Pigeon's  box. 


5o8  CHARACTER    SKETCHES 

On  the  shoulders  of  these  aristocratic  individuals,  Mr.  Pigeon 
is  carried  into  certain  clubs,  or  perhaps  -^'e  should  say  he  walks  into 
them  by  the  aid  of  these  "legs."  But  they  keep  liim  always  to 
themselves.  Captain  Rooks  must  rob  in  companies ;  but  of  course, 
the  greater  the  profits,  the  fewer  the  partners  must  be.  Three  are 
positively  reciuisite,  however,  as  every  reader  must  know  who  has 
played  a  game  at  whist :  Numlier  One  to  be  Pigeon's  partner,  and 
curse  his  stars  at  losing,  and  propose  higher  play,  and  "  settle  "  with 
Number  Two ;  Number  Three  to  transact  business  with  Pigeon,  and 
drive  him  down  to  the  City  to  sell  out.  We  have  known  an  instance 
where,  after  a  very  good  night's  work.  Number  Three  has  bolted 
with  the  winnings  altogether,  but  the  practice  is  dangerous  ;  not 
only  disgraceful  to  the  profession,  but  it  cuts  i>p  your  own  chance 
afterwards,  as  no  one  will  act  with  you.  There  is  only  -one  occa- 
sion on  which  such  a  manoguvi'e  is  allowable.  Many  are  sick 
of  tlie  profession,  and  desirous  to  turn  honest  men :  in  this  case, 
when  you  can  get  a  good  coiq->,  five  thousand  say,  bolt  without 
scruple.  One  thing  is  clear,  the  other  men  must  be  mum,  and 
you  can  live  at  Vienna  comfortably  on  the  interest  of  five  thousand 
pounds. 

Well,  then,  in  the  society  of  these  amiable  confederates  little 
Pigeon  goes  tlirough  that  period  of  time  which  is  necessary  for 
the  purpose  of  plucking  liim.  To  do  this  you  must  not,  in  most 
cases,  tug  at  the  feathers  so  as  to  hurt  him,  else  he  may  be 
frightened,  and  hop  away  to  somebody  else  :  nor,  generally  speak- 
ing, will  the  feathers  come  out  so  easily  at  first  as  they  will  when 
he  is  used  to  it,  and  then  they  drop  in  handfuls.  Nor  need  you 
have  the  least  scruple  in  so  causing  the  little  creature  to  moult 
artificially  :  if  you  don't,  somebody  else  will :  a  Pigeon  goes  into 
tlie  world  fated,  as  Chateaubriand  says — 

"Pigeon,  il  va  subir  lo  sort  do  tout  pigeon." 

He  must  be  plucked,  it  is  the  purpose  for  wliich  nature  has  formed 
him  :  if  you.  Captain  Rook,  do  not  perform  the  operation  on  a  green 
table  lighted  by  two  wax-candles,  and  with  two  jjacks  of  cards  to 
operate  with,  some  other  Rook  will :  are  there  not  railroads,  and 
Spanisli  bonds,  and  bituminous  companies,  and  Cornisli  tin  mines, 
and  old  dowagers  with  daughters  to  marry  ?  If  you  leave  him.  Rook 
of  Birchin  Lane  will  have  him  as  sure  as  fate  :  if  Rook  of  Birchin 
Lane  don't  hit  him.  Rook  of  the  Stock  Exchange  will  blaze  away 
both  barrels  at  him,  which,  if  the  poor  trembling  flutterer  escape, 
he  will  fly  over  and  drop  into  the  rookery,  where  dear  old  swindling 
Lady  Rook  and  her  daughters  will  find  him  and  nestle  him  in  their 


CAPTAIN    ROOK   AND    MR.   PIGEON  509 

bosoms,  and  in  that  soft  i)laeu  plufk  liiui  uutil  lie  turu.s  out  lus  naked 
as  a  caunoii-ball.  , 

Be  not  tliou  scrupulous,  0  Captain  !  Seize  on  Pigeon ;  ])luck 
him  gently  but  l^oldly ;  but,  above  all,  never  let  him  go.  If  he  is  a 
stout  cautious  bird,  of  course  you  must  be  more  cautious ;  if  he  is 
excessively  silly  and  scared,  perhaps  the  best  way  is  just  to  take 
him  round  the  neck  at  once,  and  strip  the  -wjiolc  stock  of  i)lumage 
from  his  back. 

The  feathers  of  the  human  pigeon  being  thus  violently  abstracted 
from  him,  no  others  sujiply  their  place  :  and  yet  I  do  not  pity  him. 
He  is  now  only  undergoing  the  destiny  of  j)igeons,  and  is,  I  do 
believe,  as  happy  in  his  plucked  as  in  his  feathered  state.  He 
cannot  purse  out  his  breast,  and  bury  his  head,  and  fan  his  tail,  and 
strut  in  the  sun  as  if  he  were  a  turkcy-c;ock.  Under  all  those  fine 
airs  and  feathers,  he  was  but  what  he  is  now,  a  poor  little  meek, 
silly,  cowardly  bird,  and  his  state  of  pride  is  not  a  whit  more 
natural  to  him  than  his  fallen  condition.  He  soon  grows  used  to 
it.  He  is  too  great  a  coward  to  despair ;  much  too  mean  to  be 
frightened  because  he  must  live  by  doing  meanness.  He  is  sure,  if 
he  cannot  fly,  to  fall  somehow  or  other  on  his  little  miserable  legs  : 
on  these  he  hops  about,  and  manages  to  live  somewhere  in  Ids  own 
mean  way.  He  has  but  a  small  stomach,  and  doesn't  mind  what 
food  he  i)uts  into  it.  He  spunges  on  his  relatives;  or  else  just 
before  his  utter  ruin  he  marries  and  has  nine  children  (and  such  a 
family  always  lives) ;  he  turns  bully  most  likely,  takes  to  drinking, 
and  beats  his  wife,  who  supports  him,  or  takes  to  drinking  too ;  or 
he  gets  a  little  place,  a  very  little  place  :  you  hear  he  has  some 
tide-waitership,  or  is  clerk  to  some  new  milk  company,  or  is  lurking 
about  a  newspaper.  He  dies,  and  a  suliscrijjtiou  is  raised  lor  the 
Widow  Pigeon,  and  we  look  no  more  to  find  a  likeness  of  him  in 
his  childrcTi,  who  ai'e  as  a  new  race.  Blessed  are  ye  little  ones,  for 
ye  are  born  in  poverty  and  may  bear  it,  or  surmount  it  and  die  rich. 
But  woe  to  the  pigeons  of  this  earth,  for  they  are  born  rich  that 
they  may  die  poor. 

The  end  of  Captain  Rook — for  we  must  bring  botli  him  and  the 
paper  to  an  end — is  not  more  agreeable,  but  somewhat  more  manly 
and  majestic  than  the  conclusion  of  Mr.  Pigeon.  If  you  walk  over 
to  the  Queen's  Bench  Prison,  I  would  lay  a  wager  that  a  dozen  such 
are  to  be  found  there  in  a  moment.  They  have  a  kind  of  Lucifer 
look  with  them,  and  stare  at  you  with  fierce,  twinkling,  crow-footed 
eyes ;  or  grin  from  under  huge  grizzly  moustaches,  as  they  walk  up 
and  (\o\Y\\  in  their  tattered  brocades.  What  a  dreadful  activity  is 
that  of  a  madhouse,  or  a  prison  ! — a  dreary  ilagged  courtyard,  a  long 
dark  room,  and  the  inmates  of  it,  like  the  inmates  of  the  menagerie 


5IO  CHARACTER    SKETCHES 

cages,  ceaselessly  walking  up  aud  down  !    Marj'  Queen  of  Scots  says 

very  touchingly : — 

"  Pour  inon  mal  estranger 
Je  ne  m'arreste  en  place  ; 
Mais,  j'en  ay  beau  changer 
Si  ma  douleur  n'efface  !  " 

Up  and  down,  up  and  down— the  inward  woe  seems  to  spur  the 
body  onwards ;  and  I  think  in  both  madhouse  and  prison  you  will 
find  plenty  of  specimens  of  our  Captain  Rook.  It  is  fine  to  mark 
him  under  the  pressure  of  this  woe,  and  ^ee  how  fierce  he  looks 
when  stirred  up  liy  the  long  pole  of  memory.  In  these  a.sylums  the 
Rooks  end  their  lives ;  or,  more  hapjiv,  they  die  miserably  in  a 
miserable  provincial  town  abroad,  and  for  the  benefit  of  coming 
Rooks  they  commonly  die  early  ;  you  as  seldom  hear  of  an  old 
Rook  (practising  his  trade)  as  of  a  rich  one.  It  is  a  short-lived 
trade :  not  merry,  for  the  gains  are  most  precarious,  and  perjietual 
doubt  and  dread  are  not  pleasant  accompaniments  of  a  profession  : — 
not  agreeable  cither,  for  though  Captain  Rook  docs  not  niinil  heing 
a  scoundrel,  no  man  likes  to  be  considered  as  such,  and  as  such, 
he  knows  very  well,  does  the  world  consider  Ca])tiiin  Rook :  not 
profitable,  for  the  expenses  of  the  trade  swallow  uji  all  the  jirofits  of 
it,  and  in  addition  leave  the  bankrn])t  with  certain  habits  that  have 
become  a.s  nature  to  him,  and  wliicli,  to  live,  he  mu.-;t  gratify.  I 
know  no  more  miserable  wretch  than  our  Rook  in  his  autumn  days, 
at  dismal  Calais  or  Boulogne,  or  at  the  Bench  yonder,  with  a  whole 
load  of  diseases  and  wants,  that  have  come  to  him  in  the  course 
of  his  profession  :  the  diseases  and  wants  of  sensuality,  always 
pampered,  and  now  agonising  for  lack  of  its  unnatuml  food ;  the 
mind,  Avhich  mnut  think  now,  and  has  only  bitter  recollections, 
mortified  ambitions,  and  unavailing  scoundrclisms  to  con  ever!  Oh, 
Captain  Rook!  what  nice  "chums"  do  you  take  with  you  into 
prison !  what  pleasant  companions  of  exile  follow  you  over  the  Hncs 
patrice,  or  attend,  the  onlv  watchers,  round  vour  miserable  death- 
bed ! 

My  son,  be  not  a  Pigeon  in  thy  dealings  with  the  world : — but 
it  is  better  to  be  a  Pigeon  than  a  Rook. 


THE   FASHIONABLE   AUTHORESS 


PAYING  a  visit  the  other  day  to  my  friend  Tiinson,  who,  I 
need  not  tell  the  iiublic,  is  editor  of  that  fomous  evening 
paper,  the  ****  (and  let  it  be  said  that  there  is  no  more 
profitable  acquaintance  than  a  gentleman  in  Timson's  situation,  in 
whose  office,  at  three  o'clock  daily,  you  are  sure  to  find  new  books, 
lunch,  magazines,  and  inninnerable  tickets  for  concerts  and  plays)  : 
going,  I  say,  into  Timson's  ofiice,  I  saw  on  the  tal)le  an  immense 
paper  cone  or  funnel,  containing  a  bouquet  of  such  a  size,  that  it 
might  be  called  a  bosquet,  wherein  all  sorts  of  rare  geraniums, 
luscious  magnolias,  stately  dahlias,  and  other  floral  produce  were 
gathered  together — a  regular  flower-stack. 

Timson  was  for  a  brief  space  invisible,  and  I  was  left  alone  in 
the  room  with  the  odours  of  this  tremendous  bow-pot,  which  filled 
the  whole  of  the  inky,  smutty,  dingy  apartment  with  an  agreeable 
incense.  "0  rus  !  quando  te  aspiciam?"  exclaimed  I,  out  of  the 
Latin  Grammar,  for  imagination  had  carried  me  away  to  the  country, 
and  I  was  about  to  make  another  excellent  and  useful  quotation 
(from  the  14t]i  book  of  the  Iliad,  madam),  concerning  "ruddy  lotuses, 
and  crocuses,  and  hyacinths,"  when  all  of  a  sudden  Timson  ajjpeared. 
His  head  and  shoulders  had,  in  fa(;t,  been  engidfed  in  the  flowers, 
among  which  he  might  be  compared  to  any  Cupid,  butterfly,  or  bee. 
His  little  face  was  screwed  up  into  such  an  expression  of  comical 
deliglit  and  triumph,  that  a  Methodist  parson  Av-ould  have  laughed 
at  it  in  the  midst  of  a  funeral  sermon. 

"What  arc  you  giggling  at?"  said  Mr.  Timson,  assuming  a  high 
aristocratic  air. 

"  Has  the  goddess  Flora  made  you  a  present  of  that  bower, 
wrapped  up  in  white  paper ;  or  did  it  come  by  the  vulgar  hands 
of  yonder  gorgeous  footman,  at  whom  all  the  little  printer's  devils 
are  staring  in  the  passage  1 " 

"Stutt"!"  said  Timson,  picking  to  j)ieces  some  rare  exotic,  worth 
at  the  very  least  fifteenpence  ;  "a  friend,  who  knows  that  Mrs. 
Timson  and  I  are  fond  of  these  things,  has  sent  us  a  nosegay, 
that's  all." 

T  saw  how  it  was.     "Augustus  Timson,''  exclaimed  I  sternly. 

14  • 


512  CHARACTER   SKETCHES 

"  the  Rmlicoes  have  lieen  with  you ;  if  that  footman  did  not  wear 
the  Pimlico  plush,  ring  tlie  bell  and  order  me  out ;  if  that  three- 
cornered  billet  lying  in  your  snuff-box  has  not  the  Pimlico  seal  to  it, 
never  ask  me  to  dinner  again." 

"Well,  if  it  does"  says  Mr.  Timson,  who  flushed  as  red  as 
a  peony,  "  what  is  the  harm  %  Lady  Fanny  Flummery  may  send 
flowers  to  her  friends,  I  suppose?  The  conservatories  at  Pimlico 
House  are  famous  all  the  world  over,  and  the  Countess  promised  me 
a  nosegay  the  very  last  time  I  dined  there." 

"Was  that  the  day  when  she  gave  you  a  box  of  bonbons  for 
your  darling  little  Ferdinand  % " 

"  No,  another  day." 

"Or  the  day  when  she  promised  you  her  carriage  for  Epsom 
Races  % " 

"  No." 

"  Or  the  day  when  she  hoped  that  her  Lucy  and  your  Barbara- 
Jane  might  be  acquainted,  and  sent  to  the  latter  from  the  former  a 
new  French  doll  and  tea-things  ? " 

"  Fiddlestick  !  "  roared  out  Augustus  Timson,  Esquire  :  "  I  wish 
you  wouldn't  come  bothering  here.  I  tell  you  that  Lady  PimHco 
is  my  friend — my  friend,  mark  you,  and  I  will  allow  no  man  to 
abuse  her  in  my  presence ;  I  say  again  no  man  !  "  wherewith  Mr. 
Timson  plunged  both  his  hands  violently  into  his  breeches-pockets, 
looked  me  in  the  face  sternly,  and  began  jingling  his  keys  and 
shillings  about. 

At  this  juncture  (it  being  about  half-past  three  o'clock  in  the 
afternoon),  a  one-horse  chaise  drove  up  to  the  ****  oflice  (Timson 
lives  at  Claphana,  and  comes  in  and  out  in  this  machine),  a  one-horse 
chaise  drove  up  ;  and  amidst  a  scuffling  and  crying  of  small  voices, 
good-humoured  Mrs.  Timson  bounced  into  the  room. 

"Here  we  are,  deary,"  said  she:  "we'll  walk  to  the  Mery- 
weathers  ;  and  I've  told  Sam  to  be  in  Charles  Street  at  twelve  with 
the  chaise :  it  wouldn't  do,  you  know,  to  come  out  of  the  Pimlico 
box  and  have  the  people  cry,  '  Mrs.  Timson's  carriage  ! '  for  old  Sam 
and  the  chaise." 

Timson,  to  tliis  loving  and  voluble  address  of  his  lady,  gave  a 
peevish  puzzled  look  towards  the  stranger,  as  much  as  to  say, 
"  He's  here." 

"  La,  Mr.  Smith  !  and  how  do  you  do  ?— So  rude — I  didn't  see 
you  :  but  the  fact  is,  we  are  all  in  szich  a  bustle !  Augustus  has 
got  Lady  Pimlico's  box  for  the  '  Puritani '  to-night,  and  I  vowed 
I'd  take  the  children." 

Those  young  persons  were  evidently  from  their  costume  prepared 
for  some  extraordinary  festival.     Miss  Barbara-Jane,  a  young  lady 


THE    FASHIONABLE    AUTHORESS  513 

of  six  yours  old,  in  a  i)retty  pink  slip  and  white  muslin,  her  dear 
little  pull  bristling  over  with  papers,  to  be  removed  previous  to  the 
play ;  while  Master  Ferdinand  had  a  pair  of  nankeens  (I  can  recol- 
lect Timson  in  them  in  the  year  1825 — a  great  buck),  and  white 
silk  stockings,  which  belonged  to  his  mamma.  His  frill  was  very 
large  and  very  clean,  and  he  was  fumbling  perpetually  at  a  pair  of 
white  kid  gloves,  which  his  mamma  forbade  him  to  assume  before 
the  opera. 

And  "Look  here!"  and  "Oh,  precious!"  and  "Oh,  my!" 
■were  uttered  by  these  worthy  people  as  they  severally  beheld  the 
vast,  bouquet,  into  which  Mrs.  Timsou's  head  flounced,  just  as  her 
husband's  had  done  before. 

"  I  must  have  a  greenhouse  at  the  Snuggery,  that's  positive, 
Timson,  for  I'm  passionately  fond  of  flowers — and  how  kind  of  Lady 
Fanny  !     Do  you  know  her  Ladyshii),  Mr.  Smith  1 " 

"  Indeed,  madam,  I  don't  remember  having  ever  spoken  to  a 
lord  or  a  lady  in  my  life." 

Timson  smiled  in  a  supercilious  way.  Mrs.  Timson  exclaimed, 
"  La,  how  odd  !  Augustus  knows  ever  so  many.  Let's  see,  there's 
the  Countess  of  Pimlico  and  Lady  Fanny  Flummery;  Lord  Doldruin 
(Timson  touched  up  his  Travels,  you  know) ;  Lord  Gasterton,  Lord 
Guttlebury's  eldest  son  ;  Lady  Pawpaw  (they  say  she  ought  not  to 
be  visited,  though) ;  Baron  Strum — Strom — Strumpf " 

What  the  baron's  name  was  I  have  never  been  able  to  learn  ; 
for  here  Timson  burst  out  with  a  "  Hold  your  tongue,  Bessy  ! " 
which  stopped  honest  Mrs.  Timson's  harmless  prattle  altogether, 
and  obliged  that  w^orthy  woman  to  say  meekly,  "  Well,  Gus,  I  did 
not  think  there  was  any  harm  in  mentioning  your  acKjuaintance." 
Good  soul !  it  was  only  because  she  took  pride  in  her  Timson  that 
she  loved  to  enumerate  the  great  names  of  the  persons  who  did  him 
honour.  My  friend  the  editor  was,  in  fact,  in  a  cruel  position, 
looking  foolish  before  his  old  acquaintance,  stricken  in  that  unfor- 
tunate sore  point  in  his  honest  good-humoured  character.  The  man 
adored  the  aristocracy,  and  had  that  wonderful  respect  for  a  lord 
which,  perhaps  the  observant  reader  may  have  remarked,  especially 
characterises  men  of  Timson's  way  of  thinking. 

In  old  days  at  the  club  (we  held  it  in  a  small  public-house  near 
the  Coburg  Theatre,  some  of  us  having  free  admissions  to  that  place 
of  amusement,  and  some  of  us  living  for  convenience  in  the  imme- 
diate neighbourhood  of  one  of  His  Majesty's  prisons  in  that  quarter) 
— in  old  days,  I  say,  at  our  spouting  anil  toasted-cheese  club,  called 
"  The  Forum,"  Timson  was  called  Brutus  Timson,  and  not  Augustus, 
in  consequence  of  the  ferocious  re])ublicanism  which  characterised 
him,  and  his  utter  scorn  and  hatred  of  a  bloated  do-nothing  aristoc- 
2  o 


514  CHARACTER    SKETCHES 

racy.  His  letters  in  the  Weekly  Sentinel,  signed  "  Lictor,"  must 
be  remembered  by  all  our  readers  :  he  advocated  the  repeal  of  the 
Corn  Laws,  the  burning  of  machines,  the  rights  of  labour,  &c.  &c., 
wrote  some  pretty  defences  of  Robespierre,  and  used  seriously  to 
avow,  when  at  all  in  liquor,  that  in  consequence  of  those  "  Lictor  " 
letters.  Lord  Castlereagh  had  tried  to  have  him  murdered,  and 
thrown  over  Blackfriars  Bridge. 

By  what  means  Augustus  Timson  rose  to  his  present  exalted 
position  it  is  needless  here  to  state ;  suffice  it,  that  in  two  years 
he  was  completely  bound  over  neck-and-heels  to  the  bloodthirsty 
aristocrats,  hereditary  tyrants,  &c.  One  evening  he  was  asked  to 
dine  with  a  Secretary  of  the  Treasury  (the  ****  is  Ministerial, 
and  has  been  so  these  forty -nine  yeui-s) ;  at  the  house  of  tluit 
Secretary  of  the  Treasury  he  met  a  lord's  son :  walking  with  Mrs, 
Timson  in  the  Park  next  Sunday,  that  lord's  son  saluted  him. 
Timson  was  from  that  moment  a  slave,  liad  liis  coats  made  at  the 
West  End,  cut  liis  wife's  relations  (i\\Qj  are  dealers  in  marine  stores, 
and  live  at  Wapping),  and  had  his  name  put  down  at  two  Clubs. 

Wlio  was  tlie  lord's  son?  Lord  Pindico's  son,  to  be  sure,  the 
Honourable  Frederick  Flummery,  who  married  Lady  Fanny  Foxy, 
daughter  of  Pitt  Castlereagh,  second  Earl  of  Reynard,  Kilbrush 
Castle,  county  Kildare.  The  Earl  had  been  Ambassador  in  '14  : 
Mr.  Flummery,  his  attache  :  he  was  twenty-one  at  that  time,  witli 
the  sweetest  tuft  on  his  chin  in  the  world.  Lady  Fanny  was  only 
four-and-twenty,  just  jilted  by  Prince  Scoronconcolo,  the  horrid  man 
who  had  married  Miss  Solomonson  ■with  a  plum.  Fanny  had 
nothing — -Frederick  had  about  seven  thousand  pounds  less.  What 
better  could  the  young  things  do  than  marry  1  Marry  they  did, 
and  in  the  most  delicious  secrecy.  Old  Reynard  was  charmed  to 
have  an  opportunity  of  breaking  with  one  of  his  daugliters  for  ever, 
and  only  longed  for  an  occasion  never  to  forgive  the  other  nine. 

A  wit  of  the  Prince's  time,  who  inherited  and  transmitted  to 
his  children  a  vast  fortune  of  genius,  was  cautioned  on  his  marriage 
to  be  very  economical.  "  Economical  !  "  said  he  ;  "  my  wife  has 
nothing,  and  I  have  nothing :  I  suppose  a  man  can't  live  under 
that !  "  Our  interesting  pair,  by  judiciously  employing  the  same 
capital,  managed,  year  after  year,  to  live  very  comfortably,  until,  at 
last,  they  were  received  into  Pimlico  House  by  the  dowager  (who 
has  it  for  her  life),  where  they  live  very  magnificently.  Lady  Fanny 
gives  the  most  magnificent  entertainment  in  London,  has  the  most 
magnificent  equipage,  and  a  very  fine  husband  ;  who  has  his  equipage 
as  fine  as  her  Ladyship's ;  his  seat  in  the  oniiubus,  while  her  Lady- 
ship is  in  the  second  tier.  They  say  he  plays  a  good  deal — ay,  and 
pays,  too,  when  he  loses. 


THE    FASHIONABLE    AUTHORESS  515 

And  how,  pr'ythee  1  Her  Ladyship  is  a  Fashionable  Autuo- 
RESS.  Slie  has  been  at  this  game  for  fifteen  years ;  during  which 
period  she  lias  published  forty-five  novels,  edited  twenty-seven  new 
magazines,  and  I  don't  know  how  many  annuals,  besides  publishing 
poems,  plays,  desultory  thoughts,  memoirs,  recollections  of  travel, 
and  pamphlets  without  number.  Going  one  day  to  church,  a  lady, 
whom  I  knew  by  her  Leghorn  bonnet  and  red  ribbons,  ruche  with 
poppies  and  marigolds,  brass  fen-onnifere,  great  red  hands,  black  silk 
gown,  thick  shoes,  and  black  silk  stockings ;  a  lady,  whom  I  knew, 
I  say,  to  be  a  devotional  cook,  made  a  bob  to  me  just  as  the  psalm 
struck  up,  and  offered  me  a  share  of  her  hymn-book.     It  was — 

"HEAVENLY    CHORDS; 

A   COLLECTION    OP 

Sacreti    .Strnins, 

SELECTED,    COMPOSED,    AND    EDITED,    BY   THE 
LADY  FRANCES  JULIANA  FLUMMERY." 

— Being  simply  a  collection  of  heavenly  chords  robbed  from  the 
lyres  of  Watts,  Wesley,  Brady  and  Tate,  &c.  ;  and  of  sacred  strains 
from  the  rare  collection  of  Sternhold  and  Hopkins.  Out  of  this, 
cook  and  I  sang ;  and  it  is  amazing  how  much  our  fervoui*  was 
increased  by  thinking  that  our  devotions  were  directed  by  a  lady 
whose  name  was  in  the  Red  Book. 

The  thousands  of  pages  that  Lady  Fanny  Flummery  has  covered 
with  ink  exceed  all  belief.  You  must  have  remarked,  madam,  in 
respect  of  this  literary  fecundity,  that  your  amiable  sex  possesses 
vastly  greater  capabilities  than  we  do ;  and  that  while  a  man  is 
pahifuUy  labouring  over  a  letter  of  two  sides,  a  lady  will  produce  a 
dozen  pages,  crossed,  dashed,  and  so  beautifully  neat  and  close,  as 
to  be  well-nigh  invisible.  The  readiest  of  ready  pens  has  Lady 
Fanny  ;  her  Pegasus  gallops  over  hot-pressed  satin  so  as  to  distance 
all  gentlemen  riders ;  like  Camilla,  it  scours  the  plain — of  Bath, 
and  never  seems  punished  or  fatigued  ;  only  it  runs  so  fast  that  it 
often  leaves  all  sense  behind  it ;  and  there  it  goes  on,  on,  scribble, 
scribble,  scribble,  never  flagging  until  it  arrives  at  that  fair  winning- 
post  on  which  is  written  "finis,"  or  "the  end";  and  shows  that 
the  course,  whether  it  be  of  novel,  annual,  poem,  or  what  not,  is 
complete. 

Now,  the  author  of  these  pages  doth  not  pretend  to  describe 
the   inward   thoughts,   ways,   and    manner  of  being   of  my  Lady 


5i6  CHARACTER    SKETCHES 

Fanny,  having  made  before  that  humiliating  confession,  that  lords 
and  ladies  are  personally  unknown  to  him ;  so  that  all  milliners, 
butchers'  ladies,  dashing  young  clerks,  and  apprentices,  or  other 
persons  who  are  anxious  to  cultivate  a  knowledge  of  the  aristocracy, 
had  better  skip  over  this  article  altogether.  But  he  hath  heard 
it  whispered,  from  pretty  good  authority,  that  the  manners  and 
customs  of  these  men  and  women  resemble,  in  no  inconsiderable 
degree,  the  habits  and  usages  of  other  men  and  women  whose 
names  are  unrecorded  by  Debrett.  Granting  this,  and  that  Lady 
Fanny  is  a  woman  pretty  much  like  another,  the  philosophical 
reader  will  be  content  that  we  rather  consider  her  Ladyship  in 
her  public  capacity,  and  examine  her  influence  upon,  mankind  in 
general. 

Her  person,  then,  being  thus  put  out  of  tlie  way,  her  works,  too, 
need  not  be  very  carefully  sifted  and  criticised  ;  for  what  is  the  use  of 
peering  into  a  millstone,  or  making  calculations  about  the  figure  0 1 
The  woman  has  not,  in  feet,  the  sb'ghtest  influence  ui)on  literature 
for  good  or  for  evil :  there  are  a  certain  number  of  fools  whom 
she  catches  in  her  flimsy  traps  ;  and  why  not  1  They  are  made  to 
be  humbugged,  or  how  should  we  live  ?  Lady  Fanny  writes  every- 
thing :  that  is,  nothing.  Her  poetry  is  mere  wind  ;  her  novels, 
stark  nought ;  her  philosophy,  sheer  vacancy  :  how  should  she  do 
any  better  than  she  does'?  how  could  she  succeed  if  she  did  do 
any  better  1  If  she  did  write  well,  she  would  not  be  Lady  Fanny  ; 
she  would  not  be  ])raised  by  Timson  and  the  critics,  because 
she  would  be  an  lionest  woman,  and  would  not  bribe  them. 
Nay,  she  would  probably  be  written  down  by  Timson  &  Co.,  be- 
cause, being  an  honest  woman,  she  utterly  despised  them  and  their 
craft. 

We  have  said  what  she  writes  for  the  most  part.  Individually, 
she  will  throw  off"  any  iuunl)er  of  novels  that  Messrs.  Siwp  and  Diddle 
will  pay  for  ;  and  collectively,  by  the  aid  of  self  and  friends,  scores 
of  "  Lyrics  of  Loveliness,"  "  Beams  of  Beauty,"  "  Pearls  of  Purity," 
&c.  Who  does  not  recollect  the  success  which  her  "  Pearls  of 
the  Peerage "  had  ?  She  is  going  to  do  the  "  Beauties  of  the 
Baronetage  " ;  then  we  shall  have  the  "  Daugliters  of  the  Dustmen," 
or  some  such  other  collection  of  portraits.  Lady  Fanny  has  around 
her  a  score  of  literary  gentlemen,  who  are  bound  to  her,  body  and 
soul :  give  them  a  dinner,  a  smile  fi'om  an  oj)era-box,  a  wave  of  the 
hand  in  Rotten  Row,  and  they  are  hers,  neck  and  heels.  Vides,  mi 
fill,  &c.  See,  my  son,  with  what  a  very  small  dose  of  humbug 
men  are  to  be  bought.  I  know  many  of  these  individuals :  there 
is  my  friend  M 'Lather,  an  immense  pudgy  man  :  I  saw  him  one 
day  walking  through  Bond  Street  in  company  with  an  enormous 


THE    FASHIONABLE    AUTHORESS  517 

ruby  breast-pin.  "  Mac  !  "  shouted  your  humble  servant,  "  that  is 
a  Fhuniuery  ruby  ; "  and  Mac  hated  and  cursed  us  ever  after. 
Presently  came  little  Fitch,  the  artist :  he  was  rigged  out  in  an 
illuminated  velvet  waistcoat — Flummery  again — "  There's  only  one 
like  it  in  town,"  whispered  Fitch  to  me  confidentially,  "  and  Flummery 
has  that."  To  be  sure,  Fitch  had  given,  in  return,  half-a-dozen  of 
the  prettiest  drawings  in  the  world.  "  I  wouldn't  charge  for  them, 
you  know,"  he  says  :  "  for  hang  it.  Lady  Fanny  is  mv  friend." 
Oh,  Fitch,  Fitch  ! 

Fifty  more  instances  could  be  adduced  of  her  Ladyship's  ways 
of  bribery.  She  bribes  the  critics  to  i)raise  her,  and  the  writers  to 
write  for  her  ;  and  the  public  flocks  to  her  as  it  will  to  any  other 
tradesman  who  is  properly  pufied.  Out  comes  the  book  :  as  for  its 
merits,  Ave  may  allow,  cheerfidly,  that  Lady  Fanny  has  no  lack  of 
that  natural  esprit  which  every  woman  possesses  ;  but  here  ])raise 
stops.  For  the  style,  she  does  not  know  her  own  language  ;  but,  in 
revenge,  has  a  smattering  of  half-a-dozen  others.  She  interlards  her 
works  with  fearful  quotations  from  the  French,  fiddle-faddle  extracts 
from  Italian  operas,  German  phrases  fiercely  mutilated,  and  a  scrap 
or  two  of  bad  Spanish ;  and  upon  the  strength  of  these  murders, 
she  calls  herself  an  authoress.  To  be  siu-e  there  is  no  such  word  as 
authoress.  If  any  young  nobleman  or  gentleman  of  Eton  College, 
when  called  upon  to  indite  a  copy  of  verses  in  praise  of  Sapi)ho,  or 
the  Countess  of  Dash,  or  Lady  Charlotte  What-d'ye-call-'em,  or  the 
Honourable  Mrs.  Somebody,  should  fondly  imagine  that  he  niiglit 
apply  to  those  fail'  creatures  the  title  of  aucirix — I  pity  that  young 
nobleman's  or  gentleman's  case.  Doctor  "Wordsworth  and  assistants 
would  swish  that  error  out  of  him  in  a  way  that  need  not  here  be 
mentioned.  Remember  it  henceforth,  ye  writeresses — there  is  no 
such  word  as  authoress.  Auctor,  madam,  is  the  word.  "  Optima 
tu  proprii  nominis  auctor  eris ; "  which,  of  course,  means  that  you 
are,  by  your  proper  name,  an  author,  not  an  authoress.  The  line  is 
in  Ainsworth's  Dictionary,  where  anybody  may  see  it. 

This  point  is  settled  then :  there  is  no  such  word  as  authoress. 
But  what  of  that  %  Are  authoresses  to  be  bound  by  the  rules  of 
grammar  1  The  supposition  is  absurd.  We  don't  expect  them  to 
know  their  own  language  ;  we  prefer  rather  the  little  gracei'ul  ])ranks 
and  liberties  they  take  with  it.  When,  for  instance,  a  celebrated 
authoress,  who  wrote  a  Diaress,  calls  somebody  the  prototyjie  of  his 
own  father,  we  feel  an  obligation  to  her  Ladyship  ;  the  language  feels 
an  obligation  ;  it  has  a  charm  and  a  privilege  with  which  it  was  never 
before  endowed:  and  it  is  manifest,  that  if  we  call  ourselves  ante- 
types  of  our  grandmothers — can  prophesy  what  we  had  for  dinner 
yesterday,  and  so  on,  we  get  into  a  new  range  of  thought,  and 


5i8  CHARACTER    SKETCHES 

discover  sweet  regions  of  fancy  and  poetry,  of  which  the  mind  hath 
never  even  liad  a  notion  until  now. 

It  may  be  then  considered  as  certain  that  an  authoress  ought 
not  to  know  her  own  tongue.  Literature  and  politics  have  this 
privilege  in  common,  that  any  ignoramus  may  excel  in  both.  No 
apprenticeship  is  required,  that  is  certain;  and  if  any  gentleman 
doubts,  let  us  refer  him  to  the  popular  works  of  the  present  day, 
where,  if  he  find  a  particle  of  scholarship,  or  any  acquaintance  with 
any  books  in  any  language,  or  if  he  be  disgusted  by  any  absm-d, 
stiff,  old-fashioned  notions  of  grammatical  propriety,  we  are  ready 
to  qualify  oiu-  assertion.  A  friend  of  ours  came  to  us  the  other  day 
in  great  trouble.  His  dear  little  boy,  who  had  been  for  some  months 
attach^  to  the  stables  of  Mr.  Tilbury's  establishment,  took  a  fancy 
to  the  corduroy  breeches  of  some  other  gentleman  employed  in  the 
same  emporium — appropriated  them,  and  afterwards  disposed  of 
them  for  a  trifling  sum  to  a  relation — I  believe  his  uncle.  For  this 
harmless  freak,  poor  Sam  was  absolutely  seized,  tried  at  Clerkenwell 
Sessions,  and  condemned  to  six  months'  useless  rotatory  labour  at 
the  House  of  Correction.  "The  poor  fellow  was  bad  enough  before, 
sir,"  said  his  father,  confiding  in  our  philanthropy ;  "  he  picked  up 
such  a  deal  of  slang  among  the  stable-boys ;  but  if  you  could  hear 
him  since  he  came  from  the  mill !  he  knocks  you  down  with  it,  sir. 
I  am  afraid,  sir,  of  his  becoming  a  regular  prig :  f<ir  thougli  he's  a 
'cute  chap,  can  read  and  write,  and  is  mighty  smart  and  handy,  A«Jt 
no  one  will  take  him  into  service,  on  account  of  that  business  of  the 
breeches ! " 

"  What,  sir ! "  exclaimed  we,  amazed  at  the  man's  simplicity : 
"  such  a  son,  and  you  don't  know  what  to  do  witli  him  !  a  'cute 
fellow,  who  can  write,  who  has  been  educated  in  a  stable-yard,  and 
has  had  six  months'  polish  in  a  luiiversity — I  mean  a  prison — and 
you  don't  know  what  to  do  with  liiml  Make  a  fashionable  novelist 
of  him,  and  be  hanged  to  you  ! "  And  proud  ani  I  to  say  that  that 
young  man,  every  evening,  after  he  comes  home  from  his  Avork  (he 
has  taken  to  street-sweeping  in  the  day,  and  I  don't  advise  him  to 
relinquish  a  certainty) — proud  am  I  to  say  that  he  devotes  every 
evening  to  literary  composition,  and  is  coming  out  with  a  novel,  in 
numbers,  of  the  most  fashionable  kind. 

This  little  episode  is  only  given  for  the  sake  of  example  :  j^ar 
exemple,  as  our  authoress  would  say,  Avho  delights  in  French  of  the 
very  worst  kind.  The  public  likes  only  the  extremes  of  society, 
and  votes  mediocrity  vulgar.  From  the  Author  thoy  will  take 
nothing  but  Fleet  Ditch  ;  from  the  Autlioress,  only  the  very  finest 
of  rose-water.  I  have  read  so  many  of  her  Ladyship's  novels,  that, 
egad !  now  I  don't  care  for  anything  under  a  marquis.     Why  the 


THE    FASHIONABLE    AUTHORESS  519 

douce  should  we  listen  to  the  intrigues,  the  misfortunes,  the  virtues, 
and  conversations  of  a  couple  of  countesses,  for  instance,  when  we 
can  have  duchesses  for  our  money  ?  What's  a  baronet  1  pish  !  pisli  ! 
that  great  coarse  red  fist  in  his  scutcheon  turns  me  sick !  Wliat's  a 
baron  1  a  fellow  with  only  one  more  ball  than  a  pawnbroker ;  and, 
upon  my  conscience,  just  as  common.  Dear  Lady  Famiy,  in  your 
next  novel,  give  us  no  more  of  these  low  people ;  nothing  under 
strawberry  leaves,  for  the  mercy  of  Heaven  !  Suppose,  now,  you 
write  us 

"ALBERT; 

OR, 

WHISPERINGS    AT    WINDSOR. 

BY  THE  LADY  FRANCES  FLUMMERY." 


There  is  a  subject — fashionable  circles,  curious  revelations,  exclusive 
excitement,  &c.  To  be  sure,  you  must  here  introduce  a  viscount, 
and  that  is  sadly  vulgar ;  l:)ut  we  will  pass  him  for  the  sake  of  the 
ministerial  portefeuiUe,  which  is  genteel.  Then  you  might  do 
"  Leopold ;  or,  the  Bride  of  Neuilly  " ;  "  The  Victim  of  Wiirtem- 
berg "  ;  "  Olga  ;  or,  tlic  Autocrat's  Daughter "  (a  capital  title)  ; 
"  Henri !  or,  Rome  in  the  Nineteenth  Century  " ;  we  can  fancy  the 
book,  and  a  sweet  paragraph  about  it  in  Timson's  paper. 

"  Henri,  by  Lady  Frances  Flummery.— Henri !  Who  can  he 
be?  a  little  bird  whispers  in  our  ear,  that  the  gifted  and  talented 
Sappho  of  our  hemisphere  has  discovered  some  curious  particulars 
in  the  life  of  a  certain  young  chevalier,  whose  appearance  at  Rome 
had  so  frightened  the  Court  of  the  Tu-1-ries.  Henri  de  B-rd — ux 
is  of  an  age  when  the  yo^mg  god  can  shoot  his  darts  into  the  bosom 
with  fatal  accuracy ;  and  if  the  Marchesina  degli  Spinachi  (whose 
portrait  our  lovely  authoress  has  sung  with  a  kindred  hand)  be  as 
beauteous  as  she  is  represented  (and  as  all  who  have  visited  in  the 
exclusive  circles  of  the  Eternal  City  say  she  is),  no  wonder  at  her 
effect  upon  the  Pr-nce.  Verbum  sap.  We  hear  that  a  few  copies 
are  still  remaining.  The  enterprising  publishers,  Messrs.  Soap  and 
Diddle,  have  announced,  we  see,  several  other  works  by  the  same 
accomplished  pen." 

This  paragraph  makes  its  appearance,  in  small  type,  in  the 
****,  by  the  side,  perhaps,  of  a  disinterested  recommendations 
of  bear's-grease,  or  some  remarks  on  the  extraordinary  cheapness 
of  plate   in   Cornhill.      Well,   two  or   three   days   after,   my   dear 


520  CHARACTER    SKETCHES 

Timson,  who  has  been  asked  to  dinner,  writes  in  his  own  hand, 
and  causes  to  be  printed  in  the  largest  type,  an  article  to  the 
following  effect : — 

"  HENRI. 
"by  lady  f.  flummery. 

"  This  is  another  of  the  graceful  evergreens  which  the  fair  fingers 
of  Lady  Fanny  Flummery  are  continually  strewing  upon  our  path. 
At  once  profound  and  caustic,  truthful  and  passionate,  we  are  at  a 
loss  whether  most  to  admire  the  manly  grandeur  of  her  Ladyship's 
mind,  or  the  exquisite  nymph-like  delicacy  of  it.  Strange  power 
of  fancy  !  Sweet  enchantress,  that  rules  the  mind  at  will :  stirring 
up  the  utmost  depths  of  it  into  passion  and  storm,  or  wreathing 
and  dimphng  its  calm  surface  with  countless  summer  smiles.  As 
a  great  Bard  of  old  Time  has  expressed  it,  what  do  we  not  owe  to 
woman  1 

"  What  do  we  not  owe  her  1  More  love,  more  happiness,  more 
calm  of  vexed  spirit,  more  truthful  aid,  and  pleasant  counsel ;  in 
joy,  more  delicate  sympathy ;  in  sorrow,  more  kind  companionship. 
We  look  into  her  cheery  eyes,  and  in  those  wells  of  love,  care 
drowns;  we  listen  to  her  siren  voice,  and,  in  that  balmy  music, 
banished  hopes  come  winging  to  the  breast  again." 

This  goes  on  for  about  three-quarters  of  a  column :  I  don't 
pretend  to  understand  it ;  but  with  flowers,  angels,  Wordsworth's 
poems,  and  the  old  dramatists,  one  can  never  be  wrong,  I  think : 
and  though  I  have  written  tlie  above  paragraphs  myself,  and  don't 
understand  a  word  of  them,  I  can't,  upon  my  conscience,  help  think- 
ing that  they  are  mighty  pretty  writing.  After,  then,  this  has  gone 
on  for  about  three-quarters  of  a  column  (Timson  does  it  in  spare 
minutes,  and  fits  it  to  any  book  that  Lady  Fanny  brings  out),  he 
proceeds  to  particularise,  thus  : — 

"The  griding  excitement  which  thrills  through  every  fibre  of 
the  sold  as  we  peruse  these  passionate  pages,  is  almost  too  painful 
to  bear.  Nevertlieless,  one  drains  the  draughts  of  poesy  to  the 
dregs,  so  deliciously  intoxicating  is  its  nature.  We  defy  any  man 
who  begins  these  volumes  to  quit  them  ere  he  has  perused  each 
line.  The  plot  may  be  briefly  told  as  thus : — Henri,  an  exiled 
Prince  of  Franconia  (it  is  easy  to  understand  the  flimsy  allegory), 
arrives  at  Rome,  and  is  presented  to  the  sovereign  Pontiff.  At  a 
feast  given  in  his  honour  at  the  Vatican,  a  dancing  girl  (the  loveliest 
creation   that   ever  issued    from    poet's    brain)   is   introduced,   and 


THE    FASHIONABLE    AUTHORESS  521 

exhibits  some  specimens  of  lier  art.  The  younf^  Prinee  is  instan- 
taneously smitten  ^\■ith  tlie  clianns  of  the  Saltatrice ;  he  breathes 
into  her  ear  tlie  accents  of  his  love,  and  is  listened  to  Avith  favour. 
He  has,  liowever,  a  rival,  and  a  powerful  one.  The  Popk  has 
already  cast  his  eye  upon  the  Apulian  maid,  and  burns  with  lawless 
passion.  One  of  the  grandest  scenes  ever  Avrit,  occurs  between  the 
rivals.  The  Pope  offers  to  Castanetta  every  temptation  ;  he  will 
even  resign  his  crown  and  marry  her :  but  she  refuses.  The 
Prince  can  make  no  such  offers ;  he  cannot  wed  her :  '  The  blood 
of  Borbone,'  he  says,  'may  not  be  thus  misallied.'  He  deter- 
mines to  avoid  her.  In  despair,  she  throws  herself  off  the  Tarpeian 
rock ;  and  the  Pope  becomes  a  maniac.  Such  is  an  outline  of  tliis 
tragic  tale. 

"  Besides  this  fabulous  and  melancholy  part  of  the  narrative, 
which  is  unsurpassed,  much  is  written  in  the  gay  and  sparkling 
style  for  which  our  lovely  author  is  unrivalled.  The  sketch  of  the 
Marchesina  degli  Spinachi  and  her  lover,  the  Duca  di  Gammoni, 
is  delicious ;  and  the  intrigue  between  the  beautiful  Princs^s 
Kalbsbraten  and  Count  Bouterbrod  is  exquisitely  painted  :  every- 
body, of  course,  knows  who  these  characters  are.  The  discovery 
of  the  manner  in  which  Kartoffeln,  the  Saxon  envoy,  poisons  the 
Princess's  dishes,  is  only  a  graceful  and  real  repetition  of  a  story 
which  was  agitated  throughout  all  the  diplomatic  circles  last  year. 
Schinken,  the  Westphalian,  must  not  be  forgotten ;  nor  011a,  the 
Spanish  spy.  How  does  Lady  Fanny  Flummery,  poet  as  she  is, 
possess  a  sense  of  the  ridiculous  and  a  keenness  of  perception  which 
would  do  honour  to  a  Rabelais  or  a  RochefoutaukU  To  those  who 
ask  this  question,  we  have  one  reply,  and  that  an  example:— Not 
among  women  'tis  true  ;  for  till  the  Lady  Fanny  came  among  us, 
woman  never  soared  so  high.  Not  among  women,  indeed  ! — but  in 
comparing  her  to  that  great  spirit  for  whom  our  veneration  is  highest 
and  holiest,  we  offer  no  dishonour  to  his  shrine  : — in  saying  that  he 
who  wrote  of  Romeo  and  Desdemona  might  have  drawn  Castanetta 
and  Enrico,  we  utter  but  the  truthful  expressions  of  our  hearts  ;  in 
asserting  that  so  long  as  Shakspeare  lives,  so  long  will  Flummery 
endure ;  in  declaring  that  he  who  rules  in  all  licarts,  and  over  all 
spirits  and  all  climes,  has  found  a  congenial  spirit,  we  do  but  justice 
to  Lady  Fanny — justice  to  him  who  sleeps  by  Avon  ! " 

With  which  we  had  better,  perhaps,  com^lude.  Our  object  has 
been,  in  descanting  upon  the  Fashionable  Authoress,  to  point  out 
the  influence  which  her  writing  possesses  over  society,  rather  than 
to  cinticise  her  life.  The  former  is  quite  haiirdcss  :  and  we  don't 
pretend  to  be  curious  about  the  latter.     The  woman  herself  is  not 


522  CHARACTER    SKETCHES 

so  blamable ;  it  is  the  silly  people  who  cringe  at  her  feet  that  do 
the  mischief,  aud,  gulled  themselves,  gull  the  most  gullible  of  publics. 
Think  you,  O  Timson,  that  her  Ladyship  asks  you  for  your  beaux 
yeux  or  your  wit  1  Fool  I  you  do  think  so,  or  try  and  think  so ; 
and  yet  you  know  she  loves  not  you,  but  the  ****  newspaper. 
Think,  little  Fitch,  in  your  fine  waistcoat,  how  dearly  you  have  paid 
for  it !  Think,  M'Lather,  how  many  smirks,  and  lies,  and  columns 
of  good  three-halfpence-a-line  matter  that  big  garnet  pin  has  cost 
you  !  The  woman  laughs  at  you,  man — you,  who  fancy  that  she  is 
smitten  with  you — laughs  at  your  absiu-d  pretensions,  your  way  of 
eating  fish  at  dinner,  your  great  hands,  your  eyes,  your  whiskers, 
your  coat,  and  your  strange  north-country  twang.  Down  with  this 
Delilah  !  Avaunt,  0  Circe  !  giver  of  poisonous  feeds.  To  your 
natural  haunts,  ye  gentlemen  of  the  press  !  if  bachelors,  frequent 
your  taverns,  and  be  content.  Better  is  Sally  the  waiter  and  the 
first  cut  of  the  joint,  than  a  dinner  of  four  courses  and  humbug 
therewith.  Ye  who  are  married,  go  to  your  homes ;  dine  not  with 
tJipse  persons  who  scorn  your  wives.  Go  not  forth  to  parties,  tliat 
ye  may  act  Tom  Fool  for  the  amusement  of  my  Lord  and  my  Lady  ; 
but  play  your  natural  follies  among  your  natural  friends.  Do  this 
for  a  few  years,  and  the  Fiushionable  Authoress  is  extinct.  0  Jove, 
wiiat  a  prospect !  She,  too,  has  retreated  to  her  own  natural  calling, 
being  as  much  out  of  phice  in  a  book  as  you,  my  dear  M'Lather, 
in  a  drawing-room.  Let  Uiilliners  look  up  to  her ;  let  Howell  and 
James  swear  by  her  ;  let  simpering  dandies  caper  about  her  car ;  let 
her  write  poetry  if  she  likes,  but  only  for  the  most  exclusive  circles  ; 
let  mantua-raakers  puff  her — but  not  men  :  let  such  things  be,  and 
the  Fashionable  Authoress  is  no  more  !  Blessed,  blessed  thought ! 
No  more  fiddle-faddle  novels  !  no  more  namliy-pamby  poetry  !  no 
more  fribble  "  Bldssciuis  of  Loveliness"!  When  will  you  arrive,  0 
happy  Golden  Age  ? 


THE    ARTISTS 


IT  is  confidently  stated  that  there  was  once  a  time  when  the  quarter 
of  Soho  was  thronged  by  the  fashion  of  London.  Many  wide 
streets  are  there  in  the  neighbourhood,  stretching  cheerfully 
towards  Middlesex  Hospital  in  the  north,  bounded  l)y  Dean  Street 
in  the  west,  where  the  Lords  and  Ladies  of  William's  time  used  to 
dwell, — till  in  Queen  Anne's  time,  Bloomsbury  jiut  Soho  out  of 
fashion,  and  Great  Russell  Street  became  the  pink  of  the  mode. 

Both  these  quarters  of  the  town  have  submitted  to  the  awful 
rule  of  Nature,  and  are  now  to  be  seen  undergoing  the  dire  process 
of  decay.  Fashion  has  deserted  Soho,  and  left  her  in  lier  gaunt 
lonely  old  age.  The  houses  have  a  vast,  dingy,  mouldy,  dowager 
look.  No  more  beaux,  in  mighty  periwigs,  ride  by  in  gilded  clatter- 
ing coaches ;  no  more  lacqueys  accomjjany  them,  bearing  torches, 
and  shouting  for  precedence.  A  s(Jitary  policeman  paces  these  soli- 
tary streets,  the  only  dandy  in  the  neighbourhood.  You  hear  the 
milkman  yelling  his  nulk  with  a  startling  distinctness,  and  the  clack 
of  a  servant-girl's  pattens  sets  people  a-staring  from  the  windows. 

With  Bloomsbm-y  we  have  here  nothing  to  do ;  but  as  genteel 
stockbrokers  inhabit  the  neighbourhood  of  Regent's  Park, — as  lawyers 
have  taken  possession  of  Russell  Square, —  so  Artists  have  seized 
upon  the  desolate  quarter  of  Soho.  They  are  to  be  found  in  great 
numbers  in  Berners  Street.  Up  to  tlie  present  time  naturalists  have 
never  been  able  to  account  for  this  mystery  of  their  residence.  What 
has  a  painter  to  do  with  Middlesex  Hospital  %  He  is  to  be  found 
in  Charlotte  Street,  Fitzroy  Square.  And  why  1  Philosophy  cannot 
tell,  any  more  than  why  milk  is  found  in  a  cocoa-nut. 

Look  at  Newman  Street.  Has  earth,  in  any  dismal  corner  of 
her  great  round  face,  a  spot  more  desperately  gloomy  %  The  windows 
are  sjjotted  witli  wafers,  holding  up  ghastly  bills,  that  tell  you  the 
house  is  "To  Let."  Nobody  walks  there — not  even  an  old-clothes- 
man ;  the  first  inhabited  house  has  bars  to  the  windows,  and  bears 
the  name  of  "Ahasuerus,  ofticer  to  the  Sherifi"  of  Middlesex";  and 
here,  above  all  places,  must  painters  take  up  their  quarters, — day 
by  day  must  these  reckless  people  pass  Ahasuerus's  treble  gate. 
There  was  my  poor  friend  Tom  Tickner  (who  did  those  sweet  things 


524  CHARACTER    SKETCHES 

for  "  The  Book  of  Beauty  ").  Tom,  who  could  uot  pay  his  washer- 
woman, Hved  opposite  the  bailiff's ;  and  could  see  every  miserable 
debtor  or  greasy  Jew  writ-bearer  that  went  in  or  out  of  his  door. 
The  street  begins  with  a  bailiff's,  and  ends  with  a  hospital.  I 
wonder  how  men  live  in  it,  and  are  decently  cheerful,  with  this 
gloomy  double-barrelled  moral  pushed  perpetually  into  their  faces. 
Here,  however,  they  persist  in  living,  no  one  knows  why  ;  owls 
may  still  be  found  roosting  in  Netley  Abbey,  and  a  few  Arabs  are 
to  be  seen  at  tlie  present  minute  in  Palmyra. 

The  ground-tioors  of  the  houses  where  jiainters  live  are  mostly 
make-believe  shops,  black  empty  warehouses,  containing  fabulous 
goods.  There  is  a  sedan-chair  opposite  a  house  in  Rathbone  Place, 
that  I  liave  myself  seen  every  day  for  forty-three  years.  The  house 
lias  commonly  a  huge  india-rubber-coloured  door,  Avitli  a  couple  of 
glistening  brass-plates  and  bells.  A  portrait-painter  lives  on  the  first- 
floor  ;  a  great  histoiical  genius  inhabits  the  second.  Remark  the  first- 
floor's  middle  drawing-room  window  :  it  is  four  feet  higher  than  its  two 
companions,  and  has  taken  a  f;uicy  to  peep  into  the  second-floor  front. 
So  mucli  for  the  outward  appearance  of  their  hal)itations,  and  for 
the  quarters  in  Avhich  they  commonly  dwell.  They  seem  to  love 
solitude,  and  their  mighty  spirits  rejoice  in  vastness  and  gloomy  ruin. 

I  don't  say  a  word  here  about  those  geniuses  Avho  frequent  the 
thoroughfares  of  the  town,  and  have  picture-frames  containing  a 
little  gallery  of  miniature  peers,  beauties,  and  general  officers,  in 
the  Quadrant,  the  passages  about  St.  Martin's  Lane,  the  Strand,  and 
Cheapside.  Lord  Lyndhurst  is  to  be  seen  in  many  of  these  gratis 
exhibitions — Lord  Lyndhurst  cribbed  from  Chalon  ;  Lady  Peel  from 
Sir  Thomas ;  Miss  Croker  from  the  same ;  the  Duke,  from  ditto ; 
an  original  otti(!er  in  the  Spanish  Legion ;  a  colonel  or  so,  of  the 
Bunhill  Row  Fencibles ;  a  lady  on  a  yellow  sofa,  with  four  children 
in  little  caps  and  blue  ribands.  We  liave  all  of  us  seen  these  pretty 
l)ictures,  and  are  aware  that  our  own  featiu"es  may  be  "done  in 
this  style."  Then  there  is  the  man  on  the  chain-pier  at  Brighton, 
who  pares  out  your  likeness  in  sticking-i)laster  ;  there  is  Miss  Croke, 
or  Miss  Runt,  who  gives  lessons  in  Poonah-i)ainting,  ja])anning, 
or  mezzotinting ;  Miss  Stump;  who  attends  ladies'  scIkjoIs  with 
large  chalk  heads  from  Le  Brun  or  the  Cartoons ;  Rubbery,  Avho 
instructs  young  gentlemen's  establishments  in  pencil ;  and  Sepio, 
of  the  Water-Colour  Society,  who  paints  before  eight  pupils  daily, 
at  a  guinea  an  hour,  keeping  his  own  drawings  for  himself 

All  these  persons,  as  the  most  indifferent  reader  must  see, 
equally  belong  to  the  tribe  of  Artists  (the  last  not  more  than  the 
first),  and  in  an  article  like  this  should  be  mentioned  properly. 
But  though  this  i)aper   has   been  extended  from  eight   pages  to 


THE    ARTISTS  525 

sixteen,  not  a  volume  would  suffice  to  do  justice  to  the  biograjiliies 
of  the  persons  above  mentioned.  Think  of  the  superb  Sepio,  iij  a 
light-blue  satin  cravat,  and  a  light-brown  coat,  and  yellow  kids, 
tripping  daintily  from  Grosvenor  Square  to  Gloucester  Place,  a 
small  sugar-loaf  boy  following,  who  carries  his  morocco  portfolio. 
Sepio  scents  his  handkerchief,  curls  his  hair,  and  wears,  on  a  great 
coarse  fist,  a  large  emerald  ring  that  one  of  his  pupils  gave  him. 
He  would  not  smoke  a  cigar  for  the  world;  he  is  always  to  ])e 
found  at  the  opera ;  and,  gods  !  how  he  grins,  and  waggles  his  head 
about,  as  Lady  Fanny  nods  to  him  from  her  box. 

He  goes  to  at  least  six  great  i)arties  in  the  season.  At  the 
houses  where  he  teaches,  he  has  a  faint  hope  that  he  is  received 
as  an  equal,  and  propitiates  scornful  footmen  by  absurd  donations 
of  sovereigns.  The  rogue  has  plenty  of  them.  He  has  a  stock- 
broker, and  a  power  of  guinea-lessons  stowed  away  in  the  Consols. 
There  are  a  numljer  of  young  ladies  of  genius  in  the  aristocracy, 
who  admire  him  hugely ;  he  begs  you  to  contradict  the  report  about 
him  and  Lady  Smigsmag ;  every  now  and  then  he  gets  a  present 
of  game  from  a  marquis ;  the  City  ladies  die  to  have  lessons  of 
him ;  he  prances  about  the  park  on  a  high-bred  cocktail,  with. 
lacquered  boots  and  enormous  high  heels  ;  and  he  has  a  mother  and 
sisters  somewhere — washerwomen,  it  is  said,  in  Pimlico. 

How  different  is  his  fate  to  that  of  poor  Rubbery,  the  school 
drawing-master  !  Highgate,  Homerton,  Putney,  Hackney,  Hornsey, 
Turnham  Green,  are  his  resorts  ;  he  has  a  select  seminary  to  attend 
at  every  one  of  these  places  ;  and  if,  from  all  these  nurseries  of 
youth,  he  obtains  a  sufficient  nundier  of  half-crowns  to  pay  his 
week's  bills,  what  a  happy  man  is  he  ! 

He  lives  most  likely  in  a  third  floor  in  Howland  Street,  and 
has  commonly  five  children,  who  have  all  a  marvellous  talent  for 
drawing — all  save  one,  perhaps,  that  is  an  idiot,  which  a  jioor  sick 
mother  is  ever  carefully  tending.  Se})io's  great  aim  and  battle 
in  life  is  to  be  considered  one  of  the  aristocracy ;  honest  Rubbery 
would  ftiin  be  thought  a  gentleman,  too ;  but,  indeed,  he  does  not 
know  whether  he  is  so  or  not.  Why  be  a  gentleman  1 — A  gentle- 
man Artist  does  not  obtain  the  wages  of  a  tailor  ;  Rubbery's  butcher 
looks  down  upon  him  with  a  royal  scorn  ;  and  his  wife,  poor  gentle 
soul  (a  clergyman's  daughter,  who  married  him  in  the  firm  belief 
that  her  John  would  be  knighted  and  make  an  immense  fortune), — 
his  wife,  I  say,  has  many  fierce  looks  to  suffer  from  Mrs.  Butcher, 
and  many  meek  excuses  or  prayers  to  proffer,  when  she  cannot 
pay  her  bill, — or  when,  worst  of  all,  she  has  humbly  to  beg  for 
a  little  scrap  of  meat  upon  credit,  against  John's  coming  home. 
He   has   five-and-twenty  miles   to  walk   that  day,  and  must  have 


526  CHARACTER    SKETCHES 

somethiiif^  nourishing  when  he  comes  in — he  is  killing  himself,  poor 
fellow,  she  knows  he  is ;  and  Miss  Crick  has  promised  to  pay  him 
his  quarter's  charge  on  the  very  next  Saturday.  "Gentlefolks, 
indeed,"  says  Mrs.  Butcher ;  "  pretty  gentlefolks  these,  as  can't  pay 
for  half  a  pound  of  steak  !  "  Let  us  thank  Heaven  that  the  Artist's 
wife  has  her  meat,  however, — there  is  good  in  that  shrill,  fat, 
mottled-faced  Mrs.  Brisket,  after  all. 

Think  of  tlie  labours  of  that  ])i)or  Rubbery..  He  was  up  at  four 
in  the  morning,  and  toiled  till  nine  upon  a  huge  damp  icy  htho- 
graphic  stone, — on  which  he  has  drawni  the  "  Star  of  the  Wave," 
or  the  "  Queen  of  the  Tourney,"  or,  "  She  met  at  Almack's,"  for 
Lady  Flummery's  last  new  song.  This  done,  at  half-past  nine  he 
is  to  be  seen  striding  across  Kensington  (Jardcns,  t<>  wait  ujion  the 
before-named  Miss  Crick,  at  Lament  House.  Transport  yourself  in 
imagination  to  the  Misses  Kittle's  seminary,  Potzdam  Villa,  L^pper 
Homerton,  four  miles  from  Shoreditcli ;  and  at  half-past  two. 
Professor  Rubbery  is  to  be  seen  swinging  along  towarils  the  gate. 
Somebody  is  on  the  look-out  for  him  :  indeed  it  is  his  eldest  daughter 
Marianne,  who  has  liecn  pacing  the  shrubbery,  and  jxMMJng  over  the 
green  railings  this  half-hour  p;u>t.  Slie  is  with  the  Misses  Kittle  on 
the  "  mutual  system,"  a  thousand  times  more  despised  than  the 
butchers'  and  the  grocers'  daughters,  who  arc  e<lucated  on  the  s;»me 
terms,  and  wliose  papas  are  warm  men  in  AMgate.  Wednesday  is 
the  hapj)i('st  day  of  Marianne's  week  :  and  tliis  the  happiest  liour  of 
Wednesday  !  Behr»ld  !  Professor  RuIiImmt  wijx?s  his  hot  lm»ws  and 
kisses  the  jjoor  thing,  and  they  go  in  together  out  of  the  rain,  and 
he  tells  her  tliat  the  twins  are  well  out  of  tlie  measles,  thank  God  ! 
and  that  Tom  has  just  done  the  Antinous,  in  a  way  that  nnist  make 
him  sure  of  the  Academy  prize,  and  that  mother  is  better  of  her 
rheumatism  now.  He  ha.s  broU'.:lit  her  a  letter,  in  large  round-hand, 
from  Polly  ;  a  famous  soldier,  drawn  by  little  Frank  ;  and  when, 
after  his  two  houi*s'  lesson,  R»d)bery  is  otl'  again,  our  dear  Marianne 
cons  over  the  letter  and  picture  a  hundred  times  with  soft  tearful 
smiles,  and  stows  them  away  in  an  old  writing-desk,  amidst  a  heap 
more  of  precious  home  rt'lic.><,  wretchcil  trumperv  si-nijis  and  baubles, 
that  you  and  I,  madam,  would  sneer  at ;  Init  that  in  the  poor  child's 
eyes  (and,  I  think,  in  the  eyes  of  One  who  knows  how  to  value 
widows'  mites  and  huml)le  sinners'  olfrrinirs)  are  lietter  than  bank- 
notes and  Pitt  diamonds.  0  kintl  Ht'aven,  that  has  given  the.se 
treasures  to  the  poor !  Many  and  many  an  liour  does  Marianne  lie 
awake  with  fidl  eyes,  and  yearn  for  that  wretched  old  lo<lging  in 
Howland  Street,  where  mother  and  brothers  lie  sleeping  ;  an<l,  gods  ! 
what  a  fete  it  is,  when  twice  or  thrice  in  the  year  she  comes  home  I 


THE    ARTISTS  527 

I  forget  how  many  hundred  miUions  of  miles,  for  how  many 
bilHons  of  centuries,  how  many  thousands  of  decillions  of  angels, 
peris,  houris,  demons,  afreets,  and  the  like,  Mahomet  travelled, 
lived,  and  counted,  during  the  time  that  some  water  was  falling 
from  a  bucket  to  the  groimd  ;  but  have  we  not  been  wandering  most 
egregiously  away  from  Rubbery,  during  the  minute  in  which  his 
daughter  is  changing  his  shoes,  and  taking  off"  his  reeking  macintosh, 
in  the  hall  of  Potzdam  Villa  ?  She  thinks  him  the  finest  artist  that 
ever  cut  an  H.  B.  ;  that's  positive  :  and  as  a  drawing-master,  his 
merits  are  wonderful :  for  at  the  Misses  Kittle's  annual  vacation 
festival,  when  the  young  ladies'  drawings  are  exhibited  to  their 
mammas  and  relatives  (Rubbery  attending  in  a  clean  shirt,  with 
his  wife's  large  brooch  stuck  in  it,  and  drinking  negus  along 
with  the  very  best) ; — at  the  annual  festival,  I  say,  it  will  be 
foimd  that  the  sixty-four  drawings  exhibited — "  Tintern  Abbey," 
"Kenilworth  Castle,"  "  Horse— fram  Carl  Vernet,"  "  Head^from 
West,"  or  what  not  (say  sixteen  of  each  sort) — are  the  one  exactly 
as  good  as  the  other ;  so  that,  although  Miss  Slamcoe  gets  the  prize, 
there  is  really  no  reason  why  Miss  Timson,  who  is  only  four  years 
old,  should  not  have  it ;  her  design  being  accurately  stroke  for  stroke, 
tree  for  tree,  curl  for  curl,  the  same  as  Miss  Slamcoe's,  who  is 
eighteen.  The  fact  is,  that  of  these  drawings,  Rubbery,  in  the 
course  of  the  year,  hjis  done  every  single  stroke,  although  the  girls 
and  their  parents  are  ready  to  take  their  affidavits  (or,  as  I  heard 
once  a  great  female  grammarian  say,  their  affies  davit)  that  the 
drawing-master  has  never  been  near  the  sketches.  This  is  the  way 
with  theni ;  but  mark  !— when  young  ladies  come  home,  are  settled 
in  life,  and  mammas  of  families, — can  they  design  so  much  as  a 
horse,  or  a  dog,  or  a  "moo-cow,"  for  little  Jack  who  bawls  out  for 
them  ?  Not  they  !  Rubbcry's  pupils  have  no  more  notion  of 
drawing,  any  more  than  Sepio's  of  painting,  when  that  eminent 
artist  is  away. 

Between  these  two  gentlemen,  lie  a  whole  class  of  teachers  of 
drawing,  who  resemble  them  more  or  less.  I  am  ashamed  to  say 
that  Rubbery  takes  his  j^ipe  in  the  parlour  of  an  hotel,  of  which  the 
largest  room  is  devoted  to  the  convenience  of  poor  people,  amateurs 
of  British  gin  :  whilst  Sepio  trips  down  to  the  Club,  and  has  a  pint 
of  the  smallest  claret :  but  of  course  the  tastes  of  men  vary ;  and 
you  find  them  simple  or  presuming,  careless  or  prudent,  natural  and 
vulgar,  or  false  and  atrociously  genteel,  in  all  ranks  and  stations 
of  life. 

As  for  the  other  persons  mentioned  at  the  beginning  of  this 
discourse,  viz.  the  cheap  portrait-painter,  the  portrait-cutter  in 
sticking-plaster,   and   Miss   Croke,    the    teacher   of  mezzotint  and 

15 


528  CHARACTER    SKETCHES 

Poonah-painting, — nothing  need  be  said  of  them  in  this  place,  as  we 
have  to  speak  of  matters  more  important.  Only  about  Miss  Croke, 
or  about  other  professors  of  cheap  art,  let  the  reader  most  sedulously 
avoid  them.  Mezzotinto  is  a  take-in,  Poonah-painting  a  rank, 
villainous  deception.  So  is  "  Grecian  art  without  bru.sh  or  pencils." 
These  are  only  small  mechanical  contrivances,  over  which  young 
ladies  are  made  to  lose  time.  And  now,  having  disposed  of  these 
small  skirmishers  who  hover  round  the  great  body  of  Artists,  we 
are  arrived  in  presence  of  the  main  force,  that  we  must  begin  to 
attack  in  form.  In  the  "  partition  of  the  earth,"  as  it  has  been 
described  by  Schiller,  the  reader  will  remember  that  the  poet, 
finding  himself  at  the  end  of  the  general  scranil)le  without  a  single 
morsel  of  plunder,  applied  passionately  to  Jove,  who  pitied  the 
poor  fellow's  condition,  and  complimented  him  with  a  seat  in  the 
Empyrean.  "  The  strong  and  the  cunning,"  says  Jupiter,  "  have 
seized  upon  the  inheritance  of  the  world,  whilst  thou  weft  star- 
gazing and  rhyming :  not  one  single  acre  remains  wherewith  I  can 
endow  thee ;  but,  in  revenge,  if  thou  art  disposed  to  visit  me  in  my 
own  heaven,  come  when  thou  wilt,  it  is  always  open  to  thee." 

The  cunning  and  strong  have  scrambled  and  struggled  more  on 
our  own  little  native  spot  of  earth  than  in  any  other  place  on  the 
world's  surface ;  and  the  English  poet  (whether  he  handles  a  pen  or 
a  pencil)  has  little  other  refuge  than  that  windy  unsubstantial  one 
which  Jove  has  vouchsafed  to  him.  Such  airy  board  and  lodging 
is,  however,  distasteful  to  many ;  who  prefer,  therefore,  to  give  up 
their  poetical  calling,  and,  in  a  vulgar  beef-eating  world,  to  feed 
upon  and  fight  for  vulgar  beef 

For  such  persons  (among  the  class  of  painters),  it  may  be 
asserted  that  portrait-painting  was  invented.  It  is  the  Artist's 
compromise  with  heaven ;  "  the  light  of  common  day,"  in  which, 
after  a  certain  quantity  of  "  travel  from  the  East,"  the  genius  fades 
at  last.  Ahh6  Barth^lemy  (who  sent  Le  Jeune  Anacharsis  travel- 
ling through  Greece  in  the  time  of  Plato, — travelling  through 
ancient  Greece  in  lace  ruffles,  red  heels,  and  a  pigtail), — Abbd 
Barthdlemy,  I  say,  declares  that  somebody  was  once  standing 
against  a  wall  in  the  sun,  and  that  somebody  else  traced  the 
outline  of  somebody's  shadow  ;  and  so  painting  was  "  invented." 
Angelica  Kauff"mann  has  made  a  neat  picture  of  this  neat  subject ; 
and  very  well  worthy  she  was  of  handling  it.  Her  painting  might 
grow  out  of  a  wall  and  a  piece  of  charcoal ;  and  honest  Barthdlemy 
might  be  satisfied  that  he  had  here  traced  the  true  origin  of  the  art. 
What  a  base  pedigree  have  these  abominable  Greek,  French,  and 
High-Dutch  heathens  invented  for  that  which  is  divine  ! — a  wall, 
ye  gods,  to  be  represented  as  the  father  of  that  which  came  down 


THE    ARTISTS  529 

radiant  from  you  !  Tlic  man  who  invented  such  a  blasphemy  ought 
to  be  impaled  upon  broken  bottles,  or  shot  off  pitilessly  by  spring- 
guns,  nailed  to  the  bricks  like  a  dead  owl  or  a  weasel,  or  tied  up — a 
kind  of  vulgar  Prometheus — and  baited  for  ever  by  the  house-dog. 

But  let  not  our  indignation  carry  us  too  far.  Lack  of  genius  in 
some,  of  bread  in  others,  of  patronage  in  a  shop-keeping  world,  that 
thinks  only  of  the  useful,  and  is  little  inclined  to  study  the  sublime, 
has  turned  thousands  of  persons  calling  themselves,  and  wishing  to 
be,  Artists,  into  so  many  common  f;xce-painters,  who  must  look  out 
for  the  "  kalon  "  in  the  fat  features  of  a  red-gilled  Alderman,  or,  at 
best,  in  a  pretty,  simpering,  white-necked  beauty  from  "  Almack's." 
The  dangerous  charms  of  these  latter,  especially,  have  seduced  away 
many  painters  ;  and  we  often  think  that  this  very  physical  superi- 
ority which  English  ladies  possess,  this  tempting  brilliancy  of  health 
and  complexion,  which  belongs  to  them  more  than  to  any  others, 
has  operated  upon  our  Artists  as  a  serious  disadvantage,  and  kept 
them  from  better  things.  The  French  call  such  beauty  "  La  beaute 
du  Diable  "  ;  and  a  devilish  power  it  has  truly ;  before  our  Armidas 
and  Helens  how  many  Rinaldos  and  Parises  have  fallen,  who  are  con- 
tent to  forget  their  glorious  calling,  and  slumber  away  their  energies 
in  the  laps  of  these  soft  tempters.  0  ye  Britisli  enchantresses  !  I 
never  see  a  gilded  annual  book  without  likening  it  to  a  small  island 
near  Cape  Pelorus,  in  Sicily,  whither,  by  twanging  of  harps,  singing 
of  ravishing  melodies,  glancing  of  voluptuous  eyes,  and  tlie  most 
beautiful  fashionable  undress  in  the  world,  the  naughty  sirens  lured 
the  passing  seaman.  Steer  clear  of  them,  ye  Artists  !  pull,  ]iull  for 
your  lives,  ye  crews  of  Suffolk  Street  and  tlie  Water-Colour  (Jallery  ! 
stop  your  ears,  bury  your  eyes,  tie  yourselves  to  the  mast,  and  away 
with  you  from  the  gaudy  smiling  "  Books  of  Beauty."  Land,  and 
you  are  ruined  !  Look  well  among  the  flowers  on  yonder  ])carli— it 
is  whitened  with  the  bones  of  painters. 

For  my  part,  I  never  have  a  model  under  seventy,  and  lici-  witli 
several  shawls  and  a  cloak  on.  By  these  means  tlic  imagination 
gets  lair  play,  and  the  morals  remain  unendangered. 

Personalities  are  odious ;  but  let  the  British  public  look  at  the 
pictures  of  the  celebrated  Mr.  Shalloon — the  moral  British  public — 
and  say  whether  our  grandchildren  (or  the  grandchildren  of  the 
exalted  personages  whom  Mr.  Shalloon  paints)  will  not  have  a  queer 
idea  of  the  manners  of  their  grandmammas,  as  they  are  represented 
in  the  most  beautiful,  dexterous,  captivating  water-colour  drawings 
that  ever  were  1  Heavenly  powers,  how  they  simper  an<l  ogle  !  with 
what  gimcracks  of  lace,  ribbons,  ferronnieres,  smelling-bottles,  and 
what  not,  is  every  one  of  them  overloaded.  What  shoulders,  what 
ringlets,  what  funny  little  pug-dogs  do  they  most  of  them  exhibit  to 


530  CHARACTEK    SKETCHES 

us !  The  days  of  Lancret  and  Watteau  are  lived  over  again,  and 
the  Court  ladies  of  the  time  of  Queen  Victoria  look  as  moral  as 
the  immaculate  countesses  of  the  clays  of  Louis  Quinze.  The  last 
President  of  the  Royal  Academy  *  is  answerable  for  many  sins,  and 
many  imitators ;  especially  for  that  gay,  simpering,  meretricious 
look  which  he  managed  to  give  to  every  lady  who  sat  to  him  for  her 
portrait ;  and  I  do  not  know  a  more  curious  contrast  than  that 
which  may  be  perceived  by  any  one  who  vnW  examine  a  collection  of 
his  portraits  by  the  side  of  some  by  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds.  They 
seem  to  have  painted  different  races  of  people  ;  and  when  one  hears 
very  old  gentlemen  talking  of  the  superior  beauty  that  existed  in 
their  early  days  (as  very  old  gentlemen,  from  Nestor  doAvnwards, 
have  and  will),  one  is  inclined  to  believe  that  there  is  some  truth  in 
what  they  say ;  at  least,  that  the  men  and  women  under  George 
the  Third  were  far  superior  to  their  descendants  in  the  time  of 
George  the  Fourth.  Whither  has  it  fled — that  calm  matronly 
grace,  or  beautiful  virgin  innocence,  which  belonged  to  the  happy 
women  who  sat  to  Sir  Joshua  ?  Sir  Thomas's  ladies  are  ogling  out 
of  tlieir  gilt  frames,  and  asking  us  for  admiration ;  Sir  Joshua's  sit 
quiet,  in  maiden  meditation  fancy  free,  not  anxious  for  applause, 
but  sure  to  command  it ;  a  thousand  times  more  lovely  in  their 
sedate  serenity  than  Sir  Thomas's  ladies  in  their  smiles,  and  their 
satin  ball-dresses. 

But  th\s  is  not  the  general  notion,  and  the  ladies  prefer  the 
manner  of  the  modern  Artist.  Of  course,  such  being  the  case,  the 
painters  must  follow  the  fashion.  One  could  point  out  half-a-dozen 
Artists  who,  at  Sir  Thomas's  death,  have  seized  upon  a  shred  of  his 
somewhat  tawdry  mantle.  There  is  Carmine,  for  instance,  a  man 
of  no  small  repute,  who  will  stand  as  the  representative  of  his 
class. 

Carmine  has  had  the  usual  education  of  a  painter  in  this 
country  :  he  can  read  and  write — that  is,  has  spent  years  drawing 
the  figure — and  has  made  his  foreign  tour.  It  may  be  that  he  had 
original  talent  once,  but  he  has  learned  to  forget  this,  as  the  great 
bar  to  his  success ;  and  must  imitate,  in  order  to  live.  He  is 
among  Artists  what  a  dentist  is  among  surgeons — a  man  who  is 
employed  to  decorate  the  human  head,  and  wlio  is  paid  enormously 
f(ir  so  doing.  You  know  one  of  Carmine's  beauties  at  any 
exhibition,  and  see  the  process  by  which  they  are  manufactured. 
He  lengthens  the  noses,  widens  the  foreheads,  opens  the  eyes,  and 
gives  them  the  proper  languishing  leer  ;  diminishes  the  mouth,  and  in- 
fallibly tips  the  ends  of  it  with  a  pretty  smile  of  his  favourite  colour. 

*  Sir  Thomas  Lawrence. 


THE    ARTISTS  531 

He  is  a  personable,  wliite-lianded,  bald-licadod,  iiiiddle-a;ied  man 
m)\\\  with  tliat  f;ravo  hlandness  of  look  Avliioh  one  sees  in  so  many 
prosporuu.s  empty-headed  people.  He  has  a  collection  of  little 
stories  and  Court  gossip  about  Lady  This,  and  "  my  particular 
friend,  Lord  S6-and  So,"  which  he  lets  off  in  succession  to  every 
sitter :  indeed,  a  most  bland,  irreproachable,  gentlemanlike  man. 
He  gives  most  patronising  advice  to  young  Ai-tists,  and  makes  a 
point  of  praising  all — not  certainly  too  much,  but  in  a  gentleman- 
like, indifferent,  sinii)rring  way.  This  should  be  the  maxim  wi;h 
prosperous  persons,  who  have  had  to  make  their  way,  and  wish  to 
keep  what  they  have  made.  They  praise  everybody,  and  are  called 
good-natured  benevolent  men.  Surely  no  benevolence  is  so  easy  ;  it 
simply  consists  in  lying,  and  smiling,  and  wishing  everybody  well. 
You  will  get  to  do  so  quite  naturally  at  last,  and  at  no  expense  of 
truth.  At  first,  when  a  man  has  feelings  of  his  own — feelings  of 
love  or  of  anger — this  perpetual  grin  and  good-liumour  is  hard  to 
maintain.  I  used  to  imagine,  when  I  first  knew  Carmine,  that 
there  were  some  particular  springs  in  his  wig  (that  glossy,  oily, 
curly  crop  of  chestnut  hair)  that  pulled  up  his  features  into  a  smile, 
and  kept  the  muscles  so  fixed  for  the  day.  I  don't  think  so  now, 
and  should  say  he  grinned,  even  when  he  was  asleep  and  his  teetii 
were  out ;  the  smile  does  not  lie  in  the  manufacture  of  the  wig,  but 
in  the  construction  of  the  brain.  Claude  Carmine  has  the  org-an  of 
(lout  care-a-darnn-ativeness  wonderfully  developed ;  not  tliat  reckless 
don't-care-a-damn-ativeness  which  leads  a  man  to  disregard  all  the 
world,  and  himself  into  the  bargain,  (vlaude  stops  before  he  comes 
to  himself ;  but  beyond  that  individual  member  of  the  Royal 
Academy,  has  not  a  single  sympathy  for  a  single  human  creature. 
The  account  of  his  friends'  deaths,  woes,  misfortunes,  or  good-luck, 
he  receives  with  equal  good-nature  ;  he  gives  three  splendid  dinners 
per  annum, — Gunter,  Dukes,  Fortnum  and  Mason,  everything  ;  he 
dines  out  the  other  three  hundred  and  sixty-two  days  in  the  year, 
and  was  never  known  to  give  away  a  shilling,  or  to  advance,  for 
one  half-hour,  the  forty  pounds  per  quarter  wages  that  he  gives  to 
Mr.  Scumble,  who  works  the  backgrounds,  limbs,  and  draperies  of 
his  portraits. 

He  is  not  a  good  painter :  how  should  he  be  whose  painting  as 
it  were  never  goes  beyond  a  whisper,  and  who  would  make  a  general 
simpering  as  he  looked  at  an  advancing  cannon-ball  1 — but  he  is  not 
a  bad  painter,  being  a  keen  respectable  man  of  the  world,  who  has 
a  cool  head,  and  knows  what  is  what.  In  France,  where  tigerism 
used  to  be  the  fashion  among  the  painters,  I  make  no  doid»t  Carmine 
would  have  let  his  beard  and  wig  grow,  and  looked  tlie  fiercest  of 
the  fierce ;  but  with  us  a  man  must  be  genteel  ;  the  perfection  of 


532  CHARACTER   SKETCHES 

style  (in  writing  and  in  drawing-rooms)  being  " de  ne pas  en  avoir" 
Carmine  of  course  is  agreeably  vapid.  His  conversation  has  ac- 
cordingly the  flavour  and  briskness  of  a  clear,  brilliant,  stale  bottle 
of  soda-water,— once  in  five  minutes  or  so,  you  see  rising  up  to  the 
siu-fece  a  little  bubble— a  little  tiny  shining  point  of  Tsit- it  rises 
and  explodes  feebly,  and  then  dies.  With  regard  to  wit,  people  of 
fashion  (as  we  are  given  to  understand)  are  satisfied  with  a  mere 
soupcon  of  it.  Anything  more  were  indecorous ;  a  genteel  stomach 
could  not  bear  it :  Carmine  knows  the  exact  proportions  of  the 
dose,  and  would  not  venture  to  administer  to  his  sitters  anything 
beyond  the  requisite  quantity. 

There  is  a  great  deal  more  said  here  about  Carmine — the  man, 
than  Carmine- the  Artist;  but  what  can  be  written  about  the 
latter  1  New  ladies  in  white  satin,  new  Generals  in  red,  new  Peers 
in  scariet  and  ermine,  and  stout  Members  of  Pariiament  pointing  to 
inkstands  and  sheets  of  letter-paper,  with  a  Turkey-carpet  beneath 
them,  a  red  curtain  above  them,  ?.  Doric  pillar  supporting  them,  and 
a  tremenilous  storm  of  thmider  and  lightning  lowering  and  flashing 
in  the  background,  spring  up  every  year,  and  take  their  (hie  positions 
"upon  the  line"  in  the  Academy,  and  send  their  comjflcraents  of 
hundreds  to  swell  Carmine's  heap  of  Consols.  If  he  paints  Lady 
Flummery  for  the  tenth  time,  in  the  character  of  the  tenth  Muse, 
what  need  have  we  to  say  anything  about  it  1  The  man  is  a  good 
workman,  and  will  manufacture  a  decent  article  at  tlie  l>est  price ; 
l)ut  we  should  no  more  think  of  noticing  each,  than  of  writing  fresh 
criri(iues  upon  every  new  coat  that  Nugee  or  Stultz  turned  out.  The 
papers  say,  in  reference  to* his  pictiu-e  "No.  591.  'Full-length  por- 
tiait  of  her  Grace  the  Duchess  of  Doldrum.  Carmine,  R.A.'  Mr. 
Carmine  never  fails ;  tliis  work,  like  all  others  by  the  same  artist, 
is  excellent."— Or,  "  No.  591,  &c.  The  lovely  Duchess  of  Doldruni 
has  received  from  Mr.  Carmine's  pencil  amjile  justice  ;  the  chiar' 
oscuro  of  the  picture  is  perfect ;  the  likeness  admirable ;  the  keep- 
ing and  colouring  have  the  true  Titianesque  giusto ;  if  we  might 
hint  a  faiUt,  it  has  the  left  ear  of  the  lapdog  a  'little'  out  of 
drawing." 

Then,  perhaps,  comes  a  criticism  which  says :  "  The  Duchess 
of  Doldrum's  picture  by  Mr.  Carmine  is  neither  better  nor  worse 
than  five  hundred  other  performances  of  the  same  artist.  It  woidd 
be  very  unjust  to  say  that  these  portraits  are  bad,  for  they  have 
really  a  considerable  cleverness ;  but  to  say  that  they  were  good, 
would  be  quite  as  false ;  nothing  in  our  eyes  was  ever  further  from 
being  so.  Everv  ten  vears  Mr.  Carmine  exhibits  what  is  called  an 
original  picture  of  three  inches  square,  but  beyond  this,  nothmg 
original  is-tp  be  found  in  him  :  as  a  lad,  he  copied  Reynolds,  then 


THE    ARTISTS  533 

Opie,  then  Lawrence ;  then  having  made  a  sort  of  style  of  his  own, 
he  has  copied  himself  ever  since,"  &c. 

And  then  the  critic  goes  on  to  consider  the  various  parts  of 
Carmine's  pictures.  In  speaking  of  critics,  their  peculiar  relation- 
ship with  painters  ought  not  to  be  forgotten ;  and  as  in  a  former 
paper  we  have  seen  how  a  fashionable  authoress  has  her  critical 
toadies,  in  like  manner  has  the  painter  his  enemies  and  friends  in 
the  press ;  with  this  difference,  probably,  that  the  writer  can  bear 
a  fair  quantity  of  abuse  without  wincing,  while  the  artist  not  un- 
commonly grows  mad  at  such  strictures,  considers  them  as  personal 
matters,  inspired  by  a  ])rivate  feeling  of  hostility,  and  hates  the 
critic  for  life  who  has  ventured  to  question  his  judgment  in  any  way. 
We  have  said  before,  poor  Academicians,  for  how  many  conspiracies 
are  you  made  to  answer  !  We  may  add  now,  poor  critics,  -nhat 
black  personal  animosities  are  discovered  for  you,  when  you  ha])pen 
(right  or  wrong,  but  according  to  your  best  ideas)  to  sjjeak  the 
truth !  Say  that  Snooks's  picture  is  badly  coloured, — "  0  heavens  !  " 
shrieks  Snooks,  "what  can  I  have  done  to  offend  this  fellow?" 
Hint  that  such  a  figure  is  badly  drawn — and  Snooks  instantly 
declares  you  to  be  his  personal  enemy,  actuated  only  by  envy  and 
vile  pique.  My  friend  Pebbler,  himself  a  famous  Artist,  is  of 
opinion  that  the  critic  should  neve7-  abuse  the  painter's  performances, 
because,  says  he,  the  painter  knows  much  better  tlian  any  one  else 
what  his  own  faults  are,  and  because  you  never  do  him  any  good. 
Are  men  of  the  brush  so  obstinate  ? — very  likely ;  but  the  public 
— the  public  1  are  we  not  to  do  our  duty  liy  it  too  1  and,  aided  by 
our  superior  knowledge  and  genius  for  the  fine  arts,  jjoint  out  to  it 
the  way  it  should  go  ?  Yes,  surely  ;  and  as  by  the  efforts  of  dull  or 
interested  critics  many  bad  painters  have  been  palmed  off  upon  the 
nation  as  geniuses  of  the  first  degree  ;  in  like  manner,  the  sagacious 
and  disinterested  (like  some  we  could  name)  have  endeavoured  t(j 
provide  this  British  nation  with  pure  principles  of  taste, — or  at  least, 
to  prevent  them  from  adopting  such  as  are  impure. 

Carmine,  to  be  sure,  comes  in  for  very  little  abuse  ;  and,  indeed, 
he  deserves  but  little.  He  is  a  fashionable  painter,  and  preserves 
the  golden  mediocrity  which  is  necessary  for  the. fashion.  Let  us 
bid  him  good-bye.  He  lives  in  a  house  all  to  himself,  most  likely, 
— has  a  footman,  sometimes  a  carriage ;  is  apt  to  belong  to  the 
"  Athenaeum "  ;  and  dies  universally  respected  :  that  is,  not  one 
single  soul  cares  for  him  dead,  as  he,  living,  did  not  care  for  one 
single  soul. 

Then,  perhaps,  we  should  mention  M'Gilp,  or  Blather,  rising 
young  men,  who  will  fill  Carmine's  place  one  of  these  days,  and 
occupy  his  house  in ,  when  the  fulness  of  time  shall  come,  and 


534  CHARACTER    SKETCHES 

(he  borne  to  a  narrow  grave  in  the  Harrow  Road  by  the  whole 
mourning  Royal  Academy)  they  shall  leave  tlieir  present  first-floor 
in  Newman  Street,  and  step  into  his  very  house  and  shoes. 

There  is  little  diflference  between  the  juniors  and  the  seniors  : 
they  grin  when  they  are  talking  of  him  together,  and  express  a 
perfect  confidence  that  they  can  paint  a  head  against  Carmine  any 
(lay — as  very  likely  they  caji.  But  until 'his  demise,  they  are 
occupied  with  painting  people  about  the  Regent's  Park  and  Russell 
Square ;  are  very  glad  to  have  the  chance  of  a  popular  clergyman, 
or  a  college  tutor,  or  a  mayor  of  Stoke  Poges  after  the  Reform  Bill. 
Such  characters  are  commonly  mezzotinted  afterwards;  and  the 
portrait  of  our  esteemed  townsman  So-and-So,  by  tliat  talented 
artist  Mr.  M'Gilp,  of  London,  is  favourably  noticed  by  the  pro- 
vincial press,  and  is  to  be  found  over  the  sideboards  of  many 
country  gentlemen.  If  they  come  up  to  towTi,  to  whom  do  they 
go?  To  M'Gilp,  to  be  sure;  and  thus,  slowly,  his  practice  and 
his  prices  inc-rease. 

The  Academy  student  is  a  personage  that  should  not  be  omitted 
here ;  he  resembles  very  much,  outwardly,  the  medical  student,  and 
has  many  of  the  hitter's  habits  and  pleasures.  He  very  often  wears 
a  broad-brimmed  hat  and  a  fine  dirty  crimson  velvet  waistcoat,  his 
hair  commonly  grows  long,  and  he  has  braiding  to  his  pantaloons. 
He  works  leisurely  at  the  Academy,  he  loves  theatres,  billiards,  and 
novels,  and  has  his  house-of-call  somewhere  in  the  neighbourhood 
of  St.  Martin's  Lane,  where  he  and  his  brethren  meet  and  sneer  at 
Royal  Academicians.  If  you  ask  him  what  line  of  art  he  pureues, 
he  answers  with  a  smile  exceedingly  sujjercilious,  "  Sir,  I  am  an 
historical  painter ; "  meaning  tiiat  lie  will  only  condescend  to  take 
subjects  from  Hume,  or  Robertson,  or  from  the  cla-ssics — which  he 
knows  nothing  about.  This  stage  of  an  historical  painter  is  only 
preparatory,  lasting  perhaps  from  eighteen  to  five-and-twenty,  when 
the  gentleman's  madness  begins  to  disappear,  and  he  comes  to  look 
at  life  steridy  in  the  face,  and  to  learn  that  man  shall  not  live  by 
historical  painting  alone.  Then  our  friend  falls  to  portrait-painting 
or  animal-painting,  or  makes  some  other  such  sad  compromise  with 
necessity. 

He  has  probably  a  small  i)atrimony,  which  defrays  the  charge 
of  his  studies  and  cheap  pleasures  during  his  period  of  apprentice- 
ship. He  makes  the  ohligi  toiu-  to  France  and  Italy,  and  returns 
from  those  countries  with  a  multitude  of  spoiled  canvases,  and  a 
large  pair  of  moustaches,  with  which  he  establishes  himself  in  one 
of  the  dingy  streets  of  Soho  before  mentioned.  Tliere  is  poor 
Pi])son,  a  man  of  indomitable  patience,  and  undying  enthusiasm 
for  his  profession.     He  could  paper  Exeter  Hall  with  his  studies 


THE    ARTISTS  535 

from  the  life,  and  with  jjurtraits  in  chalk  and  oil  of  French  saj)curs 
and  Italian  brigands,  that  kindly  descend  from  their  mountain- 
caverns,  and  quit  their  murderous  occupations,  in  order  to  sit  to 
young  gentlemen  at  Rome,  at  the  rate  of  ten]ience  an  hour.  Pipson 
returns  from  abroad,  establishes  himself,  has  his  cards  printed,  and 
waits  and  waits  for  commissions  for  great  historical  pictures.  Mean- 
while, night  after  night,  he  is  to  be  found  at  his  old  place  in  the 
Academy,  copying  the  old  life-guardsman — working,  working  away 
■ — and  never  advancing  one  jot.  At  eighteen,  Pipson  copied  statues 
and  life-guardsmen  to  admiration ;  at  five-and-thirty  he  can  make 
admirable  drawings  of  life-guardsmen  and  statues.  Beyond  this 
he  never  goes  ;  year  after  year  his  historical  picture  is  returned  to 
him  by  the  envious  Academicians,  and  he  grows  old,  and  his  little 
patrimony  is  long  since  spent ;  and  he  earns  nothing  himself  How 
does  he  supjjort  hope  and  life  ? — that  is  the  wonder.  No  one  knows 
until  he  tries  (which  God  forbid  he  should  !)  upon  what  a  small 
matter  hope  and  life  can  be  supported.  Our  poor  fellow  lives  on 
from  year  to  year  in  a  miraculous  way ;  tolerably  cheerful  in  the 
midst  of  his  semi-starvation,  and  wonderfully  confident  about  next 
year,  in  sj)ite  of  the  failures  of  the  last  twenty-five.  Let  us  thank 
God  for  imparting  to  us,  poor  weak  mortals,  the  inestimable  blessing 
of  vanity.  How  many  half-witted  votaries  of  the  arts — poets, 
painters,  actors,  musicians — live  upon  this  food,  and  scarcely  any 
other !  If  the  delusion  were  to  drop  from  Pii)son's  eyes,  and  he 
should  see  himself  as  he  is, — if  some  malevolent  genius  were  to 
mingle  with  his  feeble  brains  one  fatal  particle  of  common  sense, — 
he  would  just  walk  off  Waterloo  Bridge,  and  abjure  poverty,  in- 
capacity, cold  lodgings,  unpaid  baker's  bills,  ragged  elbows,  and 
deferred  hopes,  at  once  and  for  ever. 

We  do  not  mean  to  depreciate  the  profession  of  historical  "painting, 
but  simply  to  warn  youth  against  it  as  dangerous  and  unprofitable. 
It  is  as  if  a  young  fellow  should  say,  "  I  will  be  a  Rafiaelle  or  a 
Titian, — a  Milton  or  a  Shakespeare,"  and  if  he  will  count  up  how 
many  people  have  lived  since  the  world  began,  and  how  many  tliere 
have  been  of  the  Rafiaelle  or  Shakes]  )eare  sort,  he  can  calculate  to 
a  nicety  what  are  the  chances  in  his  fiivour.  Even  successful  his- 
torical painters,  what  are  they  1 — in  a  worldly  point  of  view,  they 
mostly  inhabit  the  second-floor,  or  have  great  desolate  studios  in 
back  premises,  whither  hfe-guardsmen,  old-clothesmen,  blackamoors, 
and  other  "  j^roperties "  are  conducted,  to  figure  at  full  length  as 
Roman  conquerors,  Jewish  high-priests,  or  Otliellos  on  canvas.  Then 
there  are  gay  smart  water-colour  painters, — a  flourishing  and  pleasant 
trade.  Then  there  are  shabby,  fierce-looking  geniuses,  in  ringlets,  and 
all  but  rags,  who  paint,  and  whose  pictures  are  never  sold,  and  who 


536  CHARACTER    SKETCHES 

vow  they  are  tlie  objects  of  some  general  and  scoundrelly  conspiracy. 
There  are  landscape-painters,  who  travel  to  the  uttermost  ends  of 
the  earth  and  brave  heat  and  cold,  to  bring  to  the  greedy  British 
public  views  of  Cairo,  Calcutta,  St.  Petersburg,  Timbuctoo.  You  see 
English  artists  under  the  shadow  of  the  Pyramids,  making  sketches 
of  the  Copts,  perched  on  the  backs  of  dromedaries,  accompanying  a 
caravan  across  the  desert,  or  getting  materials  for  an  annual  in  Iceland 
or  Siberia.  What  genius  and  what  energy  do  not  they  all  exhibit — 
these  men,  whose  profession,  in  this  wise  country  of  ours,  is  scarcely 
considered  as  liberal ! 

If  we  read  the  works  of  the  Reverend  Doctor  Lemprifere,  Mon- 
sieur Winckelmann,  Professor  Plato,  and  others  who  have  written 
concerning  the  musty  old  Grecians,  we  shall  find  that  the  Artists  of 
those  barbarous  times  meddled  with  all  sorts  of  trades  besides  their 
own,  and  dabbled  in  fighting,  philosophy,  metaphysics,  both  Scotch 
and  German,  politics,  music,  and  the  deuce  knows  wliat.  A  rambling 
sculptor,  who  used  to  go  about  givinf:  lectures  in  those  days,  Socrates 
by  name,  declared  that  the  wisest  of  men  in  his  time  were  Artists. 
This  Plato,  before  mentioned,  went  through  a  regidar  course  of  draw- 
ing, figure  and  landscape,  l)lack-lead,  chalk,  with  or  without  stump, 
sepia,  water-colour,  and  oils.  Wa.s  there  ever  such  absurdity  known  1 
Among  these  benighted  heathens,  painters  were  the  most  accomplished 
gentlemen, — and  the  most  accomplished  gentlemen  were  j»aintei"s  : 
tiie  former  would  make  you  a  speet-h,  or  read  you  a  dissertation  on 
Kant,  or  lead  you  a  regiment, — with  the  very  best  statesman,  philo- 
sopher, or  soldier  in  Athens.  And  they  had  the  folly  to  say,  that  by 
thus  busying  and  accomplishing  themselves  in  all  manly  studies,  they 
were  advancing  eminently  in  tlieir  own  peculiar  one.  Wliat  was  the 
consequence  1  Why,  that  fellow  Socrates  not  only  made  a  miserable 
fiftli-rate' sculptor,  but  was  actually  hanged  for  trea.son. 

And  serve  him  right.  Do  our  young  artists  study  anything 
beyond  the  proper  way  of  cutting  a  pencil,  or  drawing  a  model  ?  Do 
you  hear  of  thein  hard  at  work  over  books,  and  bothering  their  brains 
with  nmsty  learning  ?  Not  they,  forsooth  :  we  understand  tlie  doctrine 
of  division  of  labour,  and  each  man  sticks  to  his  trade.  Artists  ilo 
not  meddle  with  the  pursuits  of  the  rest  of  the  world ;  and,  in 
revenge,  the  rest  of  the  world  does  not  meddle  with  Artists.  Fancy 
an  Artist  being  a  senior  wrangler  or  a  politician  ;  and,  on  the  othea- 
hand,  fancy  a  real  gentleman  turned  painter  !  No,  no ;  ranks  are 
defined.  A  real  gentleman  may  get  money  by  the  law,  or  by  wearing 
a  red  coat  antl  fighting,  or  a  black  one  and  preaching ;  but  that  he 
should  sell  himself  to  Art — forbid  it,  Heaven  !  And  <lo  not  let 
your  Ladyship  on  reading  this  cry  "  Stufi" !-  -stupid  envy,  rank  re- 
publicanism,— an  artist  is  a  gentleman."     Madam,  would  you  like  to 


THE    ARTISTS 


537 


see  your  son,  the  Honourable  Fitzroy  Plantagenet,  a  painter?  You 
would  die  sooner  ;  the  escutcheon  of  the  Smigsmags  would  be  ])lotted 
for  eveY,  if  Plantagenet  ever  ventured  to  make  a  mercantile  use  of  a 
bladder  of  paint. 

Time  was — some  hundred  years  back — when  writers  lived  in 
Grub  Street,  and  poor  ragged  Johnson  shrank  behind  a  screen  in 
Cave's  parlour — that  the  author's  trade  was  considered  a  very  mean 
one,  which  a  gentleman  of  family  could  not  take  up  but  as  an 
amateur.  This  absurdity  is  pretty  nearly  worn  out  now,  and  I  do 
humbly  hope  and  pray  for  the  day  when  the  other  shall  likewise 
disappear.  If  there  be  any  nobleman  with  a  talent  that  way,  why 
— why  don't  we  see  him  among  the  R.A.'s? 

501.  The  Schoolmaster.    Sketch  )  ^''^']  Henry,  Lord,  i?.  A  i^. 72..?. 

taken  abroad  .  .  )       'V/'  ""-^       ^«^*«««^  Institute 

{       Of  r  ranee. 

502.  View  of  the  Artist's  Resi-  (  Maconkey,     Right     Honourable 


dence  at  Windsor  .  j       T.  B. 

503.  Murder  of  the  Babes  in  the  \  Rustle,  Lord  J. 

Tower  .  .  .  j  Pill,  Right  Honourable  Sir  Robert. 

504.  A  Little  Agitation    .         .     O'Carrol,  Daniel,  M.R.I.A. 

Fancy,  I  say,  such  names  as  these  figuring  in  the  Catalogue  of  the 
Academy :  and  why  should  they  not  ?  The  real  glorious  days  of 
the  art  (which  wants  equality  and  not  patronage)  will  revive  then. 
Patrtmage — a  plague  on  the  word  ! — it  implies  inferiority  ;  and  in 
the  name  of  all  that  is  sensible,  why  is  a  respectable  country  gentle- 
man, or  a  city  attorney's  lady,  or  any  person  of  any  rank,  however 
exalted,  to  "  patronise  "  an  Artist  ? 

There  are  some  who  sigh  for  the  past  times,  when  magnificent 
swaggering  Peter  Paul  Rubens  (who  himself  patronised  a  queen) 
rode  abroad  with  a  score  of  gentlemen  in  his  train,  and  a  purse- 
bearer  to  scatter  ducats ;  and  who  love  to  think  how  he  was  made 
an  English  knight  and  a  Spanish  grandee,  and  went  of  embassies  as 
if  he  had  been  a  born  marquis.  Sweet  it  is  to  remember,  too,  that 
Sir  Antony  Vandyck,  K.B.,  actually  married  out  of  the  peerage  : 
and  that  when  Titian  dropped  his  mahlstick,  the  Emperor  Charles  V. 
picked  it  up  (0  gods  !  what  hei'oic  self-devotion) — picked  it  up, 
saying,  "  I  can  make  fifty  dukes,  but  not  one  Titian."  Nay,  was 
not  the  Pope  of  Rome  going  to  make  Raffaelle  a  Cardinal, — and 
were  not  these  golden  days  1 

Let  us  say  at  once,  "  No."  The  very  fuss  made  about  certain 
painters  in  the  sixteenth  and  seventeenth  centuries  shows  that  the 
body  of  Artists  had  no  rank  or  position  in  the  world.     They  hung 


538  CHARACTER    SKETCHES 

upon  single  patrons :  and  every  man  who  holds  his  place  by  such  a 
tenure  must  feel  himself  an  inferior,  more  or  less.  The  times  are 
changing  now,  and  as  authors  are  no  longer  compelled  to  send  their 
works  abroad  under  the  guardianship  of  a  great  man  and  a  slavish 
dedication,  painters,  too,  are  beginning  to  deal  directly  with  the 
public.  Who  are  the  great  picture-buyers  now  1 — the  engravers 
and  their  employers,  the  people, — "the  only  source  of  legitimate 
power,"  as  they  say  after  dinner.  A  fig  then  for  Cardinals'  hats  ! 
Were  Mr.  O'Connell  in  power  to-morrow,  let  us  hope  he  would  not 
give  one,  not  even  a  paltry  bishopric  in  2Mrtilm!^,  to  tlie  best  painter 
in  the  Academy.  What  need  have  they  of  honours  out  of  the 
profession  ?  Why  are  they  to  be  be-kuightcd  like  a  parcel  of 
aldermen  1 — for  my  part,  I  solemnly  declare,  that  I  will  take  nothing 
under  a  peerage,  after  the  exhibition  of  my  great  picture,  and  don't 
see,  if  jjainters  must  have  titles  conferred  u])on  them  for  eminent 
services,  why  the  Manjuis  of  Mulready  or  the  Earl  of  Landseer 
should  not  sit  in  the  House  as  well  as  any  law  or  soldier  lord. 

The  truth  to  be  elicited  from  this  little  digressive  dissertation 
is  this  painful  one,- — that  young  Artists  are  not  generally  as  well 
instructed  as  they  should  be ;  and  let  the  Royal  Academy  look  to 
it,  and  give  some  sound  courses  of  lectures  to  their  pupils  on 
literature  and  liistory,  as  well  as  on  anatomy,  or  light  and  shade. 


THE    FATAL    BOOTS 


THE    FATAL   BOOTS 


JANUARY— THE    BIRTH    OF    THE     YEAR 

SOME  poet  has  observed,  that  if  any  man  would  write  down 
what  has  really  happened  to  liini  in  this  mortal  life  he  would 
be  sure  to  make  a  good  book,  though  he  never  had  met  with 
a  single  adventure  from  his  birth  to  his  burial.  How  much  more, 
then,  must  I,  who  have  had  adventures,  most  singular,  pathetic,  and 
unparalleled,  be  able  to  compile  an  instructive  and  entertaining 
volume  for  the  use  of  the  public. 

I  don't  mean  to  say  that  I  have  killed  lions,  or  seen  the  wonders 
of  travel  in  the  deserts  of  Arabia  or  Persia ;  or  that  I  have  been  a 
very  fashionable  character,  living  with  dukes  and  peeresses,  and 
writing  my  recollections  of  them,  as  the  way  now  is.  I  never  left 
this  my  native  isle,  'nor  spoke  to  a  lord  (except  an  Irish  one,  wlio 
had  rooms  in  our  house,  and  forgot  to  ])ay  three  weeks'  lodging  and 
extras) ;  but,  as  our  immortal  bard  observes,  I  have  in  the  coiu'se 
of  my  existence  been  so  eaten  up  by  the  slugs  and  harrows  of  out- 
rageous fortune,  and  have  been  the  object  of  such  continual  and 
extraordinary  ill-luck,  that  I  believe  it  would  melt  the  heart  of  a 
milestone  to  read  of  it — that  is,  if  a  milestone  had  a  heart  of  any- 
thing but  stone. 

Twelve  of  my  adventiu-es,  suitable  for  meditation  and  perusal 
during  the  twelve  months  of  the  year,  have  been  arranged  by  me 
for  this  work.  They  contain  a  part  of  the  history  of  a  great,  and, 
confidently  I  may  say,  a  good  man.  I  was  not  a  spendthrift  like 
other  men.  I  never  wronged  any  man  of  a  shilling,  though  I  am  i\& 
sharp  a  fellow  at  a  bargain  as  any  in  Europe.  I  never  injured  a 
fellow-creature ;  on  the  contrary,  on  several  occasions,  when  injured 
myself,  have  shown  the  most  wonderful  forbearance.  I  come  of  a 
tolerably  good  family ;  and  yet,  born  to  wealth — of  an  inoft'ensive 
disposition,  careful  of  the  money  that  I  had,  and  eager  to  get 
more, — I  have  been  going  down  liill  ever  since  my  journey  of  lii'e 
began,   and  have  been  jjursued  by  a  complication   of  misfortunes 


542  THE    FATAL    BOOTS 

such  as  siu-ely  never  happened  to  any  man  but  the  unhappy 
Bob  Stubbs. 

Bob  Stubbs  is  my  name ;  and  I  haven't  got  a  shilling :  I  have 
borne  the  commission  of  lieutenant  in  the  service  of  King  George, 
and  am  now — but  never  mind  what  I  am  now,  for  the  public  will 
know  in  a  few  pages  more.  My  father  was  of  the  Sufiblk  Stubbses 
— a  well-to-do  gentleman  of  Bungay.  My  grandfather  had  been  a 
respected  attorney  in  that  town,  and  left  my  papa  a  pretty  little 
fortime.  I  was  thus  the  inheritor  of  competence,  and  ought  to  be 
at  this  moment  a  gentleman. 

My  misfortunes  may  be  said  to  have  commenced  about  a  year 
before  my  birth,  when  my  papa,  a  young  fellow  pretending  to  study 
the  law  in  London,  fell  madly  in  love  with  Miss  Smith,  the  daughter 
of  a  tradesman,  who  did  not  give  her  a  sixpence,  and  afterwards 
became  bankrupt.  My  j)apa  married  this  Miss  Smith,  and  carried 
her  off  to  the  country,  whore  I  was  born,  in  an  evil  hour  for  me. 

Were  I  to  attempt  to  describe  my  early  years,  you  would  laugh 
at  me  as  an  impostor ;  but  the  follo^^•ing  letter  from  mamma  to  a 
friend,  after  her  mariiage,  will  pretty  well  show  you  what  a  poor 
foolish  creature  she  was  ;  and  what  a  reckless  extravagant  fellow 
was  my  other  unfortiuiate  parent : — 

To  Miss  Eliza  Kicks,  in  Gracechurch  Street,  London. 

"  Oh,  Eliza  !  your  Susan  is  the  happiest  girl  under  heaven  ! 
My  Thomas  is  an  angel  !  not  a  tall  grenadier-like  looking  fellow, 
such  as  I  always  vowed  I  would  marry  :  — on  the  contrary,  he  is 
what  the  world  would  call  dumj^y,  antl  I  hesitate  not  to  confess 
that  his  eyes  have  a  ca.st  in  them.  But  what  then  ?  when  one  of 
his  eyes  is  fixed  on  me,  and  one  on  my  babe,  they  are  lighted  up 
with  an  aft'ection  which  my  pen  cannot  describe,  and  which,  cer- 
tainly, was  never  bestowed  upon  any  woman  so  strongly  as  upon 
your  happy  Susan  Stubbs. 

"  AVhen  he  comes  home  from  sliootiiig,  or  the  farm,  if  you  could 
see  dear  Thomas  with  me  and  our  dear  little  Bob  !  as  I  sit  on  one 
knee,  and  baby  on  the  other,  and  as  he  dances  us  both  about.  I 
often  wish  that  we  had  Sir  Joshua,  or  some  great  painter,  to  depict 
the  group  ;  for  sure  it  is  the  prettiest  picture  in  the  wliole  world,  to 
see  three  such  loving  merry  people. 

"  Dear  baby  is  the  most  lovely  little  creature  that  can  possiblij 
be — the  very  image  of  pajta  ;  he  is  cutting  his  teeth,  and  the  delight 
oi  everybody.  Nurse  says  that,  when  he  is  older,  he  will  get  rid  of 
his  squint,  and  Jiis  hair  will  get  a  great  deal  less  red.  Doctor 
Bates  is  as   kind,   and   skilful,   and  attentive  as   we  could   desire. 


73 
H 

a 
o 

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>-s 
> 


I 


THE    BIRTH    OF    THE    YEAR  543 

Think  wliat  a  blessing  to  have  liad  him  !  Ever  since  jjoor  l)al)y's 
birth,  it  Jias  never  had  a  day  ofx[uiet;  and  lie  has  been  obliged  to 
give  it  from  three  to  four  doses  every  week ; — how  tliankful  ought 
we  to  be  that  the  dear  ih.mg  is  as  well  as  it  is  !  It  got  through  the 
measles  wonderfully ;  then  it  had  a  little  rash ;  and  then  a  nasty 
hooping-cough ;  and  then  a  fever,  and  continual  i)ains  in  its  poor 
little  stomach,  crying,  poor  dear  cliild,  from  morning  till  nigjit. 

"But  dear  Tom  is  an  excellent  nurse;  and  many  and  many  a 
night  has  he  had  no  sleep,  dear  man  !  in  coiis('i|uence  of  tlu^  ])oor 
little  baby.  He  walks  uj)  and  down  witli  it  for  hours,  singing  a 
kind  of  song  (dear  fellow,  he  has  no  more  voice  than  a  tea-lccttlc), 
and  bobbing  his  head  backwards  and  forwards,  and  looking,  in  his 
nightcap  and  dressing-gown,  so  droll.  Oh,  Eliza  !  how  you  would 
laugh  to  see  him. 

"  We  have  one  of  the  best  nursemaids  in  the  tvorld,  an  Irish- 
woman, who  is  as  fond  of  bal;)y  almost  as  his  mother  (but  that  can 
never  be).  She  takes  it  to  walk  in  the  park  for  hours  together,  and 
I  really  don't  know  why  Thomas  dislikes  her.  He  says  she  is  tipsy, 
very  often,  and  slovenly,  which  I  cannot  conceive ; — to  be  sure,  the 
nurse  is  sadly  dirty,  and  sometimes  smells  very  strong  of  gin. 

"  But  what  of  that  1 — these  little  drawbacks  only  make  home 
more  pleasant.  When  one  thinks  how  many  mothers  have  no 
nursemaids  :  how  many  poor  dear  eliildreu  liave  no  doctors  :  ought 
we  not  to  be  thankful  for  Mary  Malowney,  and  that  Doctor  Bates's 
bill  is  forty-seven  i)ounds'?  How  ill  must  dear  baby  have  been,  to 
require  so  much  physic  ! 

"  But  they  arc  a  sad  expense,  these  dear  babies,  after  all. 
Fancy,  Eliza,  how  much  this  Mary  Malowney  costs  us.  Ten 
shillings  every  week  ;  a  glass  of  brandy  or  gin  at  dinner  ;  three 
pint-bottles  of  Mr.  Thrale's  best  porter  every  day — making  twenty- 
one  in  a  week,  and  nine  hundred  and  ninety  in  the  eleven  months 
she  has  been  with  us.  Then,  for  baby,  there  is  Doctor  Bates's  bill 
of  forty-five  guineas,  two  giuneas  for  christening,  twenty  for  a  grand 
christening  siipjier  and  ball  (rich  Uncle  John  mortally  oft'ended 
because  he  was  made  godfather,  and  had  to  give  baby  a  silver  cup  : 
he  has  struck  Thomas  out  of  his  will  :  and  old  Mr.  Firkin  quite  as 
much  hurt  because  he  was  7iot  asked  :  he  will  not  speak  to  me  or 
Thomas  in  consequence)  ;  twenty  guineas  for  flannels,  laces,  little 
gowns,  caps,  napkins,  and  such  baby's  ware  :  and  all  this  out  of 
three  hundred  pounds  a  year  !  But  Tjioraas  expects  to  make  <x  great 
deal  by  his  farm. 

"  We  have  got  the  most  charming  country-house  i/ou  can  imagine: 
it  is  quite  shut  in  by  trees,  and  so  retired  that,  though  only  thirty 
miles  from  London,  the  post  comes  to  us  but  once  a  week.  The 
2  Q 


1 


544  THE    FATAL    BOOTS 

roads,  it  must  be  confessed,  are  execrable  ;  it  is  winter  now,  and  we 
are  up  to  our  knees  in  mud  and  snow.  But  oh,  Eliza  !  how  happy 
we  are  :  with  Thomas  (he  has  had  a  sad  attack  of  rheumatism,  dear 
man  !)  and  little  Bobby,  and  our  kind  friend  Doctor  Bates,  who 
comes  so  far  to  see  us,  I  leave  you  to  fancy  that  we  have  a  charm- 
ing merry  party,  and  do  not  care  for  all  the  ^t^aieties  of  Ranelagh. 

"  Adieu !  dear  baby  is  crying  for  his  mamma.  A  thousand 
kisses  from  your  affectionate  Susan  Stubbs." 

There  it  is  !  Doctor's  bills,  gentleman-fai-ming,  twenty-one  pints 
of  porter  a  w(!ek.  In  this  way  my  unnatural  parents  were  already 
robbing  me  of  my  property. 


FEBR  UAR  Y— CUTTING   WE  A  THER 

[HAVE  called  this  chapter  "  cutting  weather,"  partly  in  compli- 
ment to  the  month  of  February,  and  partly  in  respect  of  my 
own  misfortunes,  which  you  are  going  to  read  about.  For  I 
have  often  thought  that  January  (wliich  is  mostly  twelfth-cake  and 
holiday-time)  is  like  tlie  first  four  or  five  years  of  a  little  boy's  life ; 
then  comes  dismal  February,  and  the  working-days  with  it,  when 
chaps  begin  to  look  out  for  themselves,  after  the  Christmas  and  the 
New  Year's  heyday  and  merry-making  are  over,  which  our  infancy 
may  well  be  said  to  be.  Well  can  I  recollect  that  bitter  fij-st  of 
February,  when  I  first  launched  out  into  the  world  and  appeared  at 
Doctor  Swishtail's  academy, 

I  began  at  school  that  life  of  prudence  and  economy  which  I 
have  carried  on  ever  since.  My  mother  gave  me  eighteenpence  on 
setting  out  (poor  soul !  I  thought  her  heart  would  break  as  she 
kissed  me,  and  bade  God  bless  me)  ;  and,  besides,  I  had  a  small 
capital  of  my  own,  which  I  had  amassed  for  a  year  previous.  I'll 
tell  you  what  I  used  to  do.  Wlierever  I  saw  six  halfpence  I  took 
one.  If  it  was  asked  for,  I  said  I  had  taken  it,  and  gave  it  back ; 
— if  it  was  not  missed,  I  said  nothing  about  it,  as  why  should  11 — 
those  who  don't  miss  their  money,  don't  lose  their  money.  So  I  had 
a  little  private  fortune  of  three  shillings,  besides  mother's  eighteen- 
pence. At  school  they  called  me  the  Copper-Merchant,  I  had  such 
lots  of  it. 

Now,  even  at  a  preparatory  school,  a  well-regulated  boy  may 
better  himself;  and  I  can  tell  you  I  did.  I  never  was  in  any  quarrels  : 
I  never  was  very  high  in  the  class  or  very  low ;  but  there  was  no 
chap  so  much  respected  : — and  why  1  Pd  always  money.  Tho 
other  boys  spent  all  theirs  in  the  first  day  or  two,  and  they  gava 
me  plenty  of  cakes  and  barley-sugar  then,  I  can  tell  you.  I'd  na 
need  to  spend  my  own  money,  for  they  would  insist  upon  treating 
me.  Well,  in  a  week,  when  theirs  was  gone,  and  they  had  bu\, 
their  threepence  a  week  to  look  to  tor  the  rest  of  the  half-year,  what 
did  I  do  1  Why,  I  am  proud  to  say  that  three-halfpence  out  of  tha 
threepence  a  week  of  almost  all  the  young  gentlemen  at  Doctoi 
Swishtail's,  came  into  my  pocket.      Suppose,   for  instance,   Tom 


546 


THE    FATAL    BOOTS 


First  week  the  3d. 

would  be  6d. 

Fourth  week 

Second  week 

Is. 

Fifth  week 

Third  week . 

2s. 

Sixth  week 

Hicks  wanted  a  slice  of  gingerbread,  who  had  the  money  1  Little 
Bob  Stubbs,  to  be  sui-e.  "Hicks,"  I  used  to  say,  "  77^  buy  you 
three-halfp'orth  of  gingerbread,  if  you'll  give  me  threepence  next 
Saturday."  And  he  agreed ;  and  next  Saturday  came,  and  he  very 
often  could  not  pay  me  more  than  three-halfpence.  Then  there  was 
the  threepence  I  was  to  have  the  next  Saturday.  I'll  tell  you  what 
I  did  for  a  whole  half-year :  I  lent  a  chap,  by  the  name  of  Dick 
Bunting,  three-halfpence  the  fii-st  Saturday  for  threepence  the  next : 
he  could  not  pay  me  more  than  half  when  Saturday  came,  and  I'm 
blest  if  I  did  not  make  him  pay  me  three-halfpence /or  three-and- 
twenty  weeks  running,  making  two  shillings  and  tenpence-halfpenny. 
But  he  was  a  sad  dishonoural)le  fellow,  Dick  Bunting  ;  for,  after  I'd 
been  so  kind  to  him,  and  let  him  off  for  three-and-twenty  weeks  the 
money  he  owed  me,  holidays  came,  and  threepence  he  owed  me  still. 
Well,  according  to  the  common  principles  of  practice,  after  six  weeks' 
holidays,  he  ought  to  have  paid  me  exactly  sixteen  shillings  which 
was  my  due.     For  the 


4s. 

8s. 

16s. 


Nothing  could  be  more  just ;  and  yet^will  it  be  believed  ] — when 
Bimting  came  liack  he  ottered  me  three-halfpence  !  the  mean  dis- 
honest scoundi-el. 

However,  I  Avas  even  with  him,  I  can  tell  you. — He  spent  all 
his  money  in  a  fortnight,  and  then  I  screwed  him  down  !  I  made 
him,  besides  giving  me  a  penny  for  a  penny,  pay  me  a  quarter  of 
his  bread-and-butter  at  breakfast  and  a  quarter  of  his  cheese  at 
supper ;  and  before  the  half-year  was  out,  I  got  from  him  a  silver 
fruit-knife,  a  box  of  comi)asses,  and  a  very  pretty  silver-laced  waist- 
coat, in  which  I  went  home  as  proud  as  a  king :  and,  what's  more, 
I  had  no  less  than  three  golden  guineas  in  the  pocket  of  it,  besides 
fifteen  shillings,  the  knife,  and  a  brass  bottle-screw,  which  I  got  from 
another  chap.  It  wasn't  bad  interest  for  twelve  shillings — which 
was  all  the  money  I'd  had  in  the  year — was  it  ?  Heigho  !  I've 
often  wished  that  I  could  get  such  a  chance  again  in  this  wicked 
world ;  but  men  are  more  avaricious  now  than  they  used  to  be  in 
those  dear  early  days. 

Well,  I  went  home  in  my  new  waistcoat  as  fine  as  a  peacock ; 
and  when  I  gave  the  bottle-screw  to  my  flither,  begging  him  to  take 
it  as  a  token  of  my  afflection  for  him,  my  dear  mother  burst  into 
such  a  fit  of  tears  as  I  never  saw,  and  kissed  and  hugged  me  fit 
to  smother  me      "  Bless  him,  bless  him  ! "  says  she,  "  to  think  of 


a- 
so 
-1 


a 

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(>■ 

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pa 


CUTTING   WEATHER  547 

liis  old  father.  And  wlusre  did  you  purchase  it,  Bob  1 " — "  Why, 
mother,"  says  I,  "  I  purchased  it  out  of  my  savings  "  (which  was  as 
true  as  the  gospel). — When  I  said  this,  mother  looked  round  to 
father,  smiling,  altliough  she  iiad  tears  in  her  eyes,  and  she  took 
his  hand,  and  with  her  other  hand  drew  me  to  her.  "  Is  he  not 
a  noble  boy  1 "  says  she  to  my  father  :  "  and  only  nine  years  old  !  " 
, — "  Faith,"  says  my  father,  "he  is  a  good  lad,  Susan.  Thank  thee, 
my  boy ;  and  here  is  a  crown-piece  in  return  for  thy  bottle-screw  : — 
it  shall  open  us  a  bottle  of  the  very  best  too,"  says  my  father. 
And  he  kept  his  word.  I  always  was  fond  of  good  wine  (though 
never,  from  a  motive  of  proper  self-denial,  having  any  in  my  cellar); 
and,  by  Jupiter !  on  this  night  I  had  my  little  skinful, — for  there 
was  no  stinting, — so  pleased  were  my  dear  parents  with  the  bottle- 
screw.  The  best  of  it  was,  it  only  cost  me  threepence  originally, 
which  a  chap  could  not  pay  me. 

Seeing  this  game  was  such  a  good  one,  I  became  very  generous 
towards  my  parents ;  and  a  capital  way  it  is  to  encourage  liberality 
in  children.  I  gave  mamma  a  very  neat  brass  thimble,  and  she 
gave  me  a  half-guinea  piece.  Then  I  gave  her  a  very  pretty  needle- 
book,  which  I  made  myself  with  an  ace  of  spades  from  a  new  pack 
of  cards  we  had,  and  I  got  Sally,  our  maid,  to  cover  it  with  a  bit 
of  pink  satin  her  mistress  had  given  her ;  and  I  made  the  haves 
of  the  book,  which  I  vandyked  very  nicely,  out  of  a  piece  of  flamiel 
I  had  had  round  my  neck  for  a  sore  throat.  It  smelt  a  little  of 
hartshorn,  but  it  was  a  beautiful  needlebook  ;  and  mamma  was  so 
delighted  with  it,  that  she  went  into  town  and  bought  me  a  gold- 
laced  hat.  Then  I  bought  papa  a  pretty  china  tobacco-stopper : 
but  I  am  sorry  to  say  of  my  dear  father  tliat  he  was  not  so  genei'ous 
as  my  mamma  or  myself,  for  he  only  burst  out  laughing,  and  did 
not  give  me  so  much  as  a  half-crown  piece,  which  was  the  least  I 
expected  from  him.  "  I  shan't  give  you  anything.  Bob,  this  time, 
says  he ;  "  and  I  wish,  my  boy,  you  would  not  make  any  more  such 
presents, — for,  really,  they  are  too  expensive."  Expensive  indeed ! 
I  hate  meanness, — even  in  a  father. 

I  must  tell  you  about  the  silver-edged  waistcoat  which  Bunting 
gave  me.  Mamma  asked  me  about  it,  and  I  told  her  the  truth, 
that  it  was  a  present  from  one  of  the  boys  for  my  kindness  to  him. 
Well,  what  does  she  do  but  writes  back  to  Doctor  Swishtail,  when 
I  went  to  school,  thanking  him  for  his  attention  to  her  dear  son, 
and  sending  a  sliilling  to  the  good  and  gi-ateful  little  boy  who  had 
given  me  the  waistcoat ! 

"What  waistcoat  is  it,"  says  the  Doctor  to  me,  "and  who  gave 
it  to  you  1 " 

"  Bunting  gave  it  me,  sir,"  says  I. 


548  THE    FATAL    BOOTS 

"  Call  Biniting  !  "  And  up  the  little  ungrateful  chap  came. 
Would  you  believe  it,  he  burst  into  tears, — told  that  the  waistcoat 
had  been  given  him  by  his  mother,  and  that  he  had  been  forced 
to  give  it  for  a  debt  to  Copper-Merchant,  as  the  nasty  little  black- 
guard called  me  ?  He  then  said  how,  for  three-halfpence,  he  had 
been  compelled  to  ])ay  mo  three  shillings  (the  sneak  !  as  if  he  had 
been  obliged  to  borrow  the  three-halfpence  !) — how  all  the  other 
boys  had  been  swindled  (swindled !)  by  me  in  like  manner, — and 
how,  with  only  twelve  shillings.  I  had  managed  to  scrape  together 
four  guineas.  .  .  . 

My  courage  almost  fails  me  as  I  describe  the  shameful  scene 
that  followed.  The  boys  were  called  in,  my  own  little  account- 
book  was  dragged  out  of  my  cupboard,  to  prove  how  much  I  had 
received  from  each,  and  every  farthing  of  my  money  was  jjaid  back 
to  them.  The  tyrant  took  the  thirty  sliillings  that  my  dear  parents 
had  given  me,  and  said  he  should  ])ut  them  into  the  poor-box  at 
church  ;  and,  after  having  made  a  long  discoiu-se  to  the  boys  about 
meanness  and  usury,  he  said,  "  Take  off  your  coat,  Mr.  Stubbs,  and 
restore  Bunting  his  waistcoat."  I  did,  and  stood  without  coat  and 
waistcoat  in  the  midst  of  the  nasty  grinning  boys.  I  w^as  going  to 
put  on  my  coat, — 

"  Stop  !  "  says  he.     "  Take  dowk  his  Breeches  ! " 

Ruthless  brutal  villain  !  Sam  Hopkins,  the  biggest  boy,  took 
them  down — horsed  me — and  I  vhk  jJixjaed,  sir:  yes,  flogged!  O 
revenge  !  I,  Robert  Stubbs,  who  had  done  nothing  but  what  was 
right,  was  brutally  flogged  at  ten  years  of  age  ! — Though  February 
was  the  shortest  month,  I  remembered  it  long. 


MARCH— SHO  WER  Y 

WHEN  my  mamma  heard  of  tlie  treatment  of  her  darling 
she  was  for  brniging  an  action  against  the  schoolmaster, 
or  else  for  tearing  his  eyes  out  (wlien,  dear  soul !  she 
woidd  not  have  torn  the  eyes  out  of  a  flea,  had  it  been  her  own 
injury),  and,  at  the  very  least,  for  having  me  removed  from  the 
school  where  I  had  been  so  shamefully  treated.  But  i)ai)a  was 
stern  for  once,  and  vowed  that  I  had  been  served  quite  right, 
declared  that  I  should  not  be  removed  from  tlie  school,  and  sent 
ohl  Swishtail  a  brace  of  pheasants  for  wliat  he  called  his  kindness 
to  me.  Of  these  the  old  gentleman  invited  me  to  partake,  and 
made  a  very  queer  speech  at  dinner,  as  he  was  cutting  them  up, 
about  the  excellence  of  my  i)arents,  and  his  own  determination  to 
be  kinder  still  to  me  if  ever  I  ventured  on  such  iirnctices  again. 
So  I  was  obliged  to  give  up  my  old  trade  of  lending  :  I'or  tlu;  Doctor 
declared  that  any  boy  who  borrowed  should  be  flogge(l,  and  any  one 
^\\o  paid  should  be  flogged  twice  as  nuicli.  Tliere  was  no  standing 
against  such  a  prohibition  as  this,  and  my  little  conunerce  was 
ruined. 

I  was  not  very  high  in  the  school :  not  having  been  al)le  to 
get  farther  than  that  dreadful  Propria  qure  maribus  in  the  Latin 
grammar,  of  which,  though  I  have  it  by  heart  even  now,  I  never 
could  understand  a  syllable  :  but,  on  account  of  my  size,  my  age, 
and  the  prayers  of  my  mother,  was  allowed  to  have  the  pi'ivijege 
of  the  bigger  boys,  and  on  holidays  to  walk  about  in  the  town. 
Great  dandies  we  were,  too,  when  we  thus  went  out.  I  i-ecollect 
my  costume  very  well :  a  thunder-and-lightning  coat,  a  white  waist- 
coat embroidered  neatly  at  tlie  i>ockets,  a  lace  ii'ill,  a  \k\\y  of  knee- 
breeches,  and  elegant  white  cotton  or  silk  stockings.  This  (Hd  very 
well,  but  still  I  was  dissatisfied  :  I  wanted  a  pair  of  hoots.  Tliree 
boys  in  the  school  had  boots — I  was  mad  to  have  them  too. 

But  my  papa,  when  I  wrote  to  him,  would  not  hear  of  it ;  and 
three  pounds,  the  price  of  a  pair,  was  too  large  a  sum  for  my 
mother  to  take  from  the  housekeeping,  or  for  me  to  pay,  in  the 
present  im])ovenshed  state  of  my  exche(iuer ;  l)ut  the  desire  for 
the  boots  was  so  strong,  that  have  them  I  must  at  any  j-ate. 


550  THE    FATAL    BOOTS 

There  was  a  German  bootmaker  who  had  just  set  up  in  our 
town  in  those  days,  who  afterwards  made  his  fortime  in  London. 
I  determined  to  have  the  boots  fi'om  him,  and  did  not  despair, 
before  the  end  of  a  year  or  two,  either  to  leave  the  school,  when  I 
should  not  mind  his  dunning  me,  or  to  screw  the  money  from 
mainma,  and  so  pay  him. 

So  I  called  upon  this  man — Stiffelkind  was  his  name — and  he 
took  my  measure  for  a  pair. 

"  You  are  a  vary  yong  gentleman  to  wear  dop-boots,"  said  the 
shoemaker. 

"  I  suppose,  fellow,"  saj^s  I,  "  that  is  my  business  and  not 
yours.  Either  make  the  boots  or  not — but  when  you  speak  to  a 
man  of  my  rank,  speak  respectfully ! "  And  I  poured  out  a 
number  of  oaths,  in  order  to  impress  him  with  a  notion  of  my 
respectability.^ 

They  had  the  desired  effect.  "  Stay,  sir,"  says  he.  "  I  have  a 
nice  littel  pair  of  dop-boots  dat  I  tink  will  jost  do  for  you."  And 
he  produced,  sure  enough,  the  most  elegant  things  I  ever  saw. 
"  Dey  were  made,"  said  he,  "  for  de  Honourable  Mr.  Stiffuey,  of  de 
Gards,  but  were  too  small." 

"Ah,  indeed!"  said  L  "  Stiffnoy  is  a  relation  of  mine.  And 
what,  you  scoundrel,  will  you  have  the  imj)udence  to  ask  for  these 
things  ? "     He  replied,  "  Three  pounds." 

"Well,"  said  I,  "they  are  confoundedly  dear;  but,  as  you  will 
have  a  long  time  to  wait  for  your  money,  why,  I  shall  have  my 
revenge,  you  see."     The  man  looked  alarmed,  and  began  a  speech  : 

"  Sare, — I  cannot  let  dem  go  vidout "  but  a  bright  thought 

struck  me,  and  I  interrupted — "  Sir  !  don't  sir  me.  Take  oft'  the 
boots,  fellow,  and,  hark  ye,  when  you  speak  to  a  nobleman,  don't 
say  Sir." 

"A  hundert  tousand  pardons,  my  Lort,"  says  he:  "if  I  had 
known  you  wore  a  lort,  I  vood  never  have  called  you  Sir.  Vat 
nnnie  shall  I  i)ut  down  in  my  books  % " 

"  Name? — Oh  !  why,  Lord  Cornwallis,  to  be  sure,"  said  I,  as  I 
walked  off  in  the  boots. 

"  And  vat  shall  I  do  vid  my  Lort's  shoes  ?  " 

"  Keep  them  until  I  send  for  them,"  said  I.  And  giving  him  a 
patronising  bow,  I  walked  out  of  the  shop,  as  the  German  tied  up 
my  shoes  in  paper. 

•  •  •  •  •  •  • 

This  story  I  would  not  have  told,  but  that  my  whole  life  turned 
upon  these  accursed  boots.  I  walked  back  to  school  as  proud  as  a 
peacock,  and  easily  succeeded  in  satisfying  the  boys  as  to  the 
manner  in  which  I  came  by  my  new  ornaments. 


s. 
>■ 

58 
a 

a 

I 

a 
o 

«1 


SHOWERY  551 

Well,  one  fatal  Monday  morning — the  blackest  of  all  black 
Mondays  that  ever  I  knew— as  we  were  all  of  us  playing  between 
school-hours,  I  saw  a  ]iosse  of  boys  round  a  stranger,  who  seemed  to 
be  looking  out  for  one  of  us.  A  sudden  trembling  seized  me — I 
knew  it  was  Stiffelkind.  What  had  brought  him  here  1  He  talked 
loud  and  seemed  angry.  So  I  rushed  into  tlie  sdioolroom,  and, 
burying  my  head  between  my  hands,  began  reading  for  dear  life. 

"  I  vant  Lort  Cornvallis,"  said  the  horrid  bootmaker.  "  His 
Lortship  belongs,  I  know,  to  dis  honourable  school,  for  I  saw  iiim 
yid  de  boys  at  cliorch  yesterday." 

"  Lord  who '? " 

"Vy,  Lort  Cornvallis  to  be  sure — a  very  fat  yong  nobleman, 
vid  red  hair :  he  scjuints  a  little,  and  svears  dreadfully." 

"  There's  no  Lord  CoruvalUs  here,"  said  one ;  and  there  was 
a  pause. 

"  Stop  !  I  have  it,"  says  that  odious  Bunting.  "  It  must  be 
Stubbs  !  "  And  "  Stubbs  !  Stubbs  !  "  every  one  cried  out,  while  I 
was  so  busy  at  my  l)ook  as  not  to  hear  a  word. 

At  last,  two  of  the  biggest  chaps  rushed  into  the  schoolroom, 
and,  seizing  each  an  arm,  ran  me  into  the  playground — bolt  up 
against  the  shoemaker. 

"  Dis  is  my  man.  I  beg  your  Lortship's  jiardon,"  says  he,  "  I 
have  brought  your  Lortship's  shoes,  vich  you  left.  See,  dey  have 
been  in  dis  parcel  ever  since  you  vent  avay  in  my  boots." 

"  Shoes,  fellow ! "  says  I.  "I  never  saw  your  fiice  before." 
For  I  knew  there  was  nothing  for  it  l)ut  brazening  it  out.  "  Upon 
the  honour  of  a  gentleman  ! "  said  I,  turning  round  to  the  boys. 
They  hesitated ;  and  if  the  trick  had  turned  in  my  favour,  fifty  of 
them  would  have  seized  hold  of  Stitfelkind  and  drubbed  him  soundly. 

"Stop!"  says  Bunting  (hang  him!).  "Let's  see  the  shoes. 
If  they  fit  him,  why  then  the  cobbler's  right."  They  did  fit  me ; 
and  not  only  tliat,  but  the  name  of  Stubbs  was  written  in  them  at 
full  length. 

"Vat!"  said  Stiffelkind.  "Is  he  not  a  lort?  So  help  me 
Himmel,  I  never  did  vonce  tink  of  looking  at  de  shoes,  which  have 
been  lying  ever  since  in  dis  piece  of  brown  paper."  And  then, 
gathering  anger  as  he  went  on,  he  thundered  out  so  mucli  of  his 
abuse  of  me,  in  his  German-English,  that  the  boys  roared  with 
laughter.  Swishtail  came  out  in  the  midst  of  the  disturbance,  and 
asked  what  the  noise  meant. 

"It's  only  Lord  Cornwallis,  sir,"  said  the  boys,  "battling  with 
his  shoemaker  about  the  price  of  a  pair  of  top-boots." 

"Oh,  sir,"  said  I,  "it  was  only  in  fun  that  I  called  myself 
Lord  Cornwallis." 


552  THE    FATAL    BOOTS 

"  In  fun  ! — Where  are  the  boots  1  And  you,  sir,  give  me  yoirr 
bill."  My  beautiful  boots  were  brought ;  and  Stiffelkind  produced 
his  bill.  "Lord  Comwallis  to  Samuel  Stiffelkind,  for  a  pair  of 
boots — four  guineas." 

"  You  have  been  fool  enough,  sir,"  says  the  Doctor,  looking  very 
stem,  "  to  let  this  boy  impose  on  you  as  a  lord ;  and  knave  enough 
to  charge  him  double  the  value  of  the  article  you  sold  him.  Take 
back  the  boots,  sir !  I  won't  pay  a  penny  of  your  bill ;  nor  can 
you  get  a  penny.  As  for  you,  sir,  you  miserable  swindler  and  cheat, 
I  shall  not  flog  you  a.s  I  did  before,  but  I  shall  send  you  home :  you 
are  not  fit  to  be  the  companion  of  honest  boys." 

"  Suppose  tve  duck  him  before  he  goes  ?  "  piped  out  a  very  small 
voice.  The  Doctor  grinned  significantly,  and  left  the  playground  ; 
and  the  boys  knew  by  this  they  might  have  their  will.  They  seized 
Ine  and  carried  me  to  the  playground  pump  :  they  pumped  upon  me 
until  I  was  half  dead ;  and  the  monster.  Stiffelkind,  stood  looking 
on  for  the  half-hour  the  operation  lasted. 

I  suppose  the  Doctor,  at  last,  thought  I  had  had  pumping 
enough,  for  he  rang  the  school-bell,  and  the  boys  were  obliged  to 
leave  me.  As  I  got  out  of  the  trough,  Stiff"elkind  was  alone  with 
me.  "  Yell,  my  Lort,"  says  he,  "  you  have  paid  somethinrj  for  desc 
boots,  but  not  all.  By  Jubider,  you  sh/ill  never  hear  de  end  of 
dem."     And  I  didn't. 


APRIL—FOOLING 

AFTER  this,  as  you  may  fancy,  I  left  this  dLsgusting  establish- 
ment, and  lived  for  some  time  along  with  pa  and  mamma  at 
'  home.  My  education  was  finished,  at  least  mamma  and  I 
agreed  that  it  was ;  and  from  boyhood  until  hobbadyhoyliood  (which 
I  take  to  be  about  the  sixteenth  year  of  the  life  of  a  young  man, 
and  may  be  likened  to  the  month  of  April  when  spring  begins  to 
bloom) — from  fourteen  imtil  seventeen,  I  say,  I  remained  at  home, 
doing  nothing — for  which  I  have  ever  since  had  a  great  taste^the 
idol  of  my  mamma,  who  took  part  in  all  my  quarrels  with  father, 
and  used  regularly  to  rob  the  weekly  expenses  in  order  to  find  me 
in  pocket-money.  Poor  soid  !  many  and  many  is  the  guinea  I  have 
had  from  her  in  that 'way;  and  so  she  enabled  me  to  cut  a  very 
pretty  figure. 

Papa  was  for  having  me  at  this  time  articled  to  a  merchant,  or 
put  to  some  jjrofession :  but  mamma  and  I  agreed  that  I  was  born 
to  be  a  gentleman  and  not  a  tradesman,  and  the  army  wa.s  the  only 
place  for  me.  Everybody  was  a  soldier  in  those  times,  for  the 
French  war  had  just  begun,  and  the  whole  country  was  swarming 
with  militia  regiments.  "  We'll  get  him  a  commission  in  a  marching 
regiment,"  said  my  father.  "As  we  have  no  money  to  purchase 
him  up,  he'll  fifjht  his  way,  I  make  no  doubt."  And  pa[)a  looked 
at  me  with  a  kind  of  air  of  contempt,  as  much  as  to  say  he  doubted 
whether  I  should  be  very  eager  for  such  a  dangerous  way  of  better- 
ing myself. 

I  wish  you  could  have  heard  mamma's  screech  when  he  talked 
so  coolly  of  my  going  out  to  fight !  "  What,  send  him  abroad, 
across  the  horrid,  horrid  sea — to  be  wrecked  and  perhaps  drowned, 
and  only  to  laud  for  the  purpose  of  fighting  the  wicked  Frenchmen, 
— to  be  wounded  and  perhaps  kick — kick — killed  !  Oh,  Thomas, 
Thomas !  woidd  you  murder  me  and  yom-  boy  ? "  There  was  a 
regular  scene.  However,  it  ended — as  it  always  did — in  mother's 
getting  the  better,  and  it  was  settled  that  I  should  go  into  the 
militia.  And  why  not  ?  The  imiform  is  just  as  handsome,  and 
the  danger  not  half  so  great.  I  don't  think  in  the  course  of  my 
whole  military  experience   I   ever  fought  anything,  except  an  old 


554  THE    FATAL    BOOTS 

woman,  who  had  the  impudence  to  hollo  out,  "  Heads  up,  lobster  !  " 
— Well,  I  joined  the  North  Bungays,  and  was  fairly  launched  into 
the  world. 

I  was  not  a  handsome  man,  I  know ;  but  there  was  something 
about  me — that's  very  evident — for  the  girls  always  laughed  when 
they  talked  to  me,  and  the  men,  though  they  affected  to  call  me  a 
poor  little  creature,  squint-eyes,  knock-knees,  red-head,  and  so  on, 
were  evidently  annoyed  by  my  success,  for  they  hated  me  so  con- 
foundedly. Even  at  the  present  time  they  go  on,  though  I  have 
given  up  gallivanting,  as  I  call  it.  But  in  the  April  of  my  existence, 
— that  is,  in  anno  Domini  1791,  or  so — it  was  a  different  case;, 
and  having  nothing  else  to  do,  and  being  bent  upon  bettering  my 
condition,  I  did  some  very  pretty  things  in  that  way.  But  I  was 
not  hot-headed  and  imprudent,  like  most  young  fellows.  Don't 
fancy  I  looked  for  beauty  !  Pish  ! — I  wasn't  such  a  fool.  Nor  for 
temper  ;  I  don't  care  about  a  bad  temper  :  I  could  break  any  woman's 
heart  in  two  years.  What  I  wanted  was  to  get  on  in  the  world. 
Of  course  I  didn't  iirefer  an  ugly  woman,  or  a  shrew;  and  when 
the  choice  offered,  would  certainly  put  up  with  a  handsome  good- 
humom-ed  girl,  with  plenty  of  money,  as  any^  honest  man  would. 

Now  there  were  two  tolerably  rich  girls  in  oiu*  parts :  Miss 
Magdalen  Crutty,  with  twelve  thousand  pounds  (and,  to  do  her 
justice,  as  plain  a  girl  as  ever  I  saw),  and  ]\Iiss  Mary  Waters,  a  fine, 
tall,  plump,  smiling,  peacli-cheeked,  golden-haired,  white-skinned 
lass,  with  only  ten.  Mary  Waters  lived  with  her  uncle,  the  Doctor, 
who  had  helped  mc  into  the  world,  and  who  was  trusted  with  this 
little  orphan  charge  very  soon  after.  My  mother,  as  you  have 
heard,  was  so  fond  of  Bates,  and  Bates  so  fond  of  little  Mary,  that 
both,  at  first,  were  almost  always  in  our  house ;  and  I  used  to  call 
her  my  little  wife  as  soon  as  I  could  s])oak,  and  before  she  could 
walk  almost.     It  was  beautiful  to  see  us,  the  neiglibours  said. 

Well,  when  her  brother,  tlie  lieutenant  of  an  India  ship,  came 
to  be  ca])tain,  and  actually  gave  Mary  five  thousand  pounds  when 
she  Avas  about  ten  years  old,  and  promised  her  five  thousand  more, 
thei'e  Avas  a  gi'eat  talking,  and  bobbing,  and  smiling  between  the 
Doctor  and  my  parents,  and  Mary  and  I  were  left  together  more 
than  ever,  and  she  was  told  to  call  me  her  little  husband.  And  she 
did  ;  and  it  was  considered  a  settled  thing  from  that  day.  She  was 
really  amazingly  fond  of  me. 

Can  any  one  call  me  mercenary  after  that  ?  Though  Miss  Crutty 
had  twelve  thousand,  and  Mary  only  ten  (five  in  liand,  and  five  in 
the  bush),  I  stuck  faithfully  to  Mary.  As  a  matter  of  course.  Miss 
Crutty  hated  Miss  Waters.  The  fact  was,  Mary  had  all  the  country 
dangling  after  her,  and  not  a  soul  would  come  to  Magdalen,  for  all 


O 

o 


FOOLING  555 

her  twelve  thousand  pounds.  I  used  to  be  attentive  to  her  though 
(as  it's  always  useful  to  be) ;  and  Mary  would  sometimes  laugh  and 
sometimes  cry  at  my  flirting  with  Magdalen.  This  I  thought 
proper  very  quickly  to  cheek.  "Mary,"  said  I,  "you  know  that 
my  love  for  you  is  disinterested, — for  I  am  faithful  to  you,  though 
Miss  Crutty  is  richer  than  you.  Don't  fly  into  a  rage,  then,  because 
I  pay  her  attentions,  when  you  know  that  my  heart  and  my  promise 
are  engaged  to  you." 

The  fact  is,  to  tell  a  little  bit  of  a  secret,  there  is  nothing  like 
the  having  two  strings  to  your  bow.  "  Who  knows  ? "  thought  I. 
"  Mary  may  die  :  and  then  where  are  my  ten  thousand  pounds  1 " 
So  I  used  to  be  very  kind  indeed  to  Miss  Crutty ;  and  well  it  was 
that  I  was  so  :  for  when  I  was  twenty  and  Mary  eighteen,  I'm  blest 
if  news  did  not  arrive  that  Captain  Waters,  who  was  coming  home 
to  England  with  all  his  money  in  rupees,  had  been  taken — ship, 
rupees,  self  and  all — by  a  French  privateer ;  and  Mary,  instead  of 
ten  thousand  pounds,  had  only  five  thousand,  making  a  difference 
of  no  less  than  three  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  per  annum  betwixt 
her  and  Miss  Crutty. 

I  had  just  joined  my  regiment  (the  famous  North  Bungay 
Fencibles,  Colonel  Craw  commanding)  wjien  this  news  reached  me ; 
and  you  may  fancy  how  a  young  man,  in  an  expensive  regiment  and 
mess,  having  uniforms  and  what  not  to  pay  for,  and  a  figure  to  cut 
in  the  world,  felt  at  hearing  such  news  !  "  My  dearest  Robert," 
wrote  Miss  Waters,  "will  deplore  my  dear  brother's  loss:  but  not, 
I  am  sure,  the  money  which  that  kind  and  generous  soul  had 
promised  me.  I  have  still  five  thousand  pounds,  and  with  this  and 
your  own  little  fortune  (I  had  one  thousand  pounds  in  the  Five  per 
Cents.)  we  shall  be  as  happy  and  contented  as  possible." 

Happy  and  contented  indeed  !  Didn't  I  know  how  my  father 
got  on  with  his  three  hundred  pounds  a  year,  and  how  it  was  all  he 
could  do  out  of  it  to  add  a  hundred  a  year  to  my  narrow  income, 
and  live  himself?  My  mind  was  made  up.  I  instantly  mounted 
the  coach  and  flew  to  our  village, — to  Mr.  Crutty's,  of  coiu-se.  It 
was  next  door  to  Doctor  Bates's ;  but  I  had  no  business  there. 

I  found  Magdalen  in  the  •  garden.  "  Heavens,  Mr.  Stubbs  !  " 
said  she,  as  in  my  new  uniform  I  appeared  before  her,  "  I  really 
did  never — such  a  handsome  oflicer — expect  to  see  you."  And  she 
made  as  if  she  would  blush,  and  began  to  tremble  violently.  I  led 
her  to  a  garden-seat.  I  seized  her  hand — it  was  not  withdrawn. 
I  pressed  it  ■ — I  thought  the  pressure  was  returned.  I  flung  myself 
on  my  knees,  and  then  I  poured  into  her  ear  a  little  speech  which  I 
had  made  on  the  top  of  the  coach.  "  Divine  Miss  Crutty,"  said  I ; 
"  idol  of  my  soul !     It  was  but  to  catch  one  glimpse  of  you  that  I 


556  THE    FATAL    BOOTS 

passed  throu,ti;h  this  garden.  I  never  intended  to  breathe  the  secret 
passion  "  (oh  no ;  of  course  not)  "  which  was  wearing  ray  life  away. 
You  know  ray  unfortunate  pre-eugageraent — it  is  broken,  and  for 
ever  I  I  am  free ; — free,  but  to  be  your  slave, — your  hurablest, 
fondest,  truest  slave  !  "     And  so  on.   .  .   . 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Stubbs,"  said  she,  as  I  imprinted  a  kiss  upon  her 
cheek,  "  I  can't  refuse  you ;  but  I  fear  you  are  a  sad  naughty 
raan.   ..." 

Absorbed  in  the  delicious  reverie  which  was  caused  by  the  dear 
creature's  confusion,  we  were  both  silent  for  a  while,  and  should 
have  remained  so  for  hours  perhaps,  so  lost  Avere  we  in  happiness, 
had  I  not  been  suddenly  roused  by  a  voice  exclaiming  from  behind 
us — 

"  Bovbt  cry,  Mary  !  He  is  a  swindling  sneaking  scoundrel, 
and  you  are  tvell  rid  of  him  !  " 

I  turned  round.  0  Heaven,  there  stood  Mary,  weeping  on 
Doctor  Bates's  arm,  while  that  miserable  apothecary  was  looking  at 
me  with  the  utmost  scorn.  The  gardener,  who  had  let  rae  in,  had 
told  them  of  my  arrival,  and  now  stood  grinning  behind  them. 
"  Imperence  !  "  was  my  Magdalen's  only  exclamation,  as  she  flounced 
by  with  the  utmost  self-possession,  while  I,  glancing  daggers  at 
the  sjries,  followed  her.  We  retired  to  the  parlour,  where  she  re- 
peated to  me  the  strongest  assurances  of  her  love. 

I  thought  I  was  a  made  man.  Alas !  I  was  only  an  April 
Fool! 


MAY— RESTORATION  DAY 

AS  the  montli  of  May  is  considered,  by  poets  and  other  philo- 
sophers, to  be  devoted  by  nature  to  tlie  great  purpose  of 
^  love-making,  I  may  as  well  take  advantage  of  tluit  season 
and  acquaint  you  with  the  result  of  my  amours. 

Young,  gay,  fascinating,  and  an  ensign — I  had  completely  won 
the  heart  of  my  Magdalen ;  and  as  for  Miss  Waters  and  her  nasty 
uncle  the  Doctor,  there  was  a  complete  split  between  us,  as  you 
may  fancy ;  Miss  pretending,  forsooth,  that  she  was  glad  I  liad 
broken  off  the  match,  though  she  woidd  have  given  her  eyes,  the 
little  minx,  to  have  had  it  on  again.  But  this  was  out  of  the 
question.  My  father,  who  liad  all  sorts  of  queer  notions,  said  I  had 
acted  like  a  rascal  in  the  business  ;  my  mother  took  my  ])art,  of 
course,  and  de(;hired  I  acted  rightly,  as  I  always  did  :  and  I  got 
leave  of  absence  from  the  regiment  in  order  to  press  my  beloved 
Magdalen  to  marry  me  out  of  liand — knowing,  from  reading  and 
experience,  the  extraordinary  nHita.l)ility  of  hum:in  affairs. 

Besides,  as  the  dear  girl  was  seventeen  years  older  than  myself, 
and  as  bad  in  health  as  she  was  in  temper,  how  was  I  to  know 
that  the  grim  king  of  terrors  might  not  carry  her  off  befbi-e  she 
became  mine  1  With  the  tenderest  warmth,  then,  and  most  delicate 
ardour,  I  continued  to  press  my  suit.  The  hai)i)y  day  was  fixed — 
the  ever-memorable  10th  of  May  1792.  The  wedding-clothes  were 
ordered;  and,  to  make  things  secure,  I  piiinied  a  little  paragra]ih 
for  the  county  paper  to  this  effect:  "Marriiige  in  High  Life.  Wo 
understand  that  Ensign  Stubbs,  of  the  North  Bxuigay  Fencibles, 
and  son  of  Thomas  Stubbs,  of  Sloffenisquiggle,  Esquire,  is  about  fo 
lead  to  the  hymeneal  altar  the  lovely  and  accomplished  daughter  of 
Solomon  Crutty,  Esquire,  of  the  same  place.  A  fortune  of  twenty 
thousand  pounds  is,  we  hear,  the  lady's  ptjrtion.  '  None  but  the 
brave  deserve  the  fair.' 

"  Have  you  informed  your  relatives,  my  beloved  ? "  said  I  to 
Magdalen  one  day  after  sending  the  above  notice ;  "  will  any  of 
them  attend  at  your  marriage  %  " 


558  THE    FATAL    BOOTS 

"  Uncle  Sam  will,  I  dare  say,"  said  Miss  Crutty,  "  dear  mamma's 
brother." 

"  And  who  was  your  dear  mamma?"  said  I :  for  Miss  Crntty's 
respected  parent  had  been  long  since  dead,  and  I  never  heard  her 
name  mentioned  in  the  family. 

Magdalen  blushed,  and  cast  down  her  eyes  to  the  ground. 
"Mamma  was  a  foreigner,"  at  last  she  said. 

"  And  of  what  country  ]  " 

"  A  German.  Papa  married  her  when  she  was  very  young  : — 
she  was  not  of  a  very  good  family,"  said  Miss  Crutty,  hesitating. 

"  And  what  care  I  for  family,  my  love  !  "  said  I,  tenderly  kissing 
the  knuckles  of  the  hand  which  I  held.  "  She  must  have  been  an 
angel  who  gave  birth  to  you." 

"  She  was  a  shoemaker's  daughter." 

"  A  Geriium  shoemaker  !  Hang  'em  !  "  thought  I,  "  I  have  had 
enough  of  them ; "  and  so  broke  up  this  conversation,  which  did  not 
somehow  please  me. 

•  •••••• 

Well,  the  day  wjis  drawing  near :  the  clothes  were  ordered  ; 
the  banns  were  read.  My  dear  mamma  had  built  a  cake  about  the 
size  of  a  washing-tub ;  and  I  was  only  waiting  for  a  week  to  pass 
to  put  me  in  possession  of  twelve  thousand  pounds  in  the  Five  per 
(-cuts.,  as  they  were  in  those  days,  Heaven  bless  'em.  Little  did  I 
know  the  storm  that  was  brewing,  and  the  disapi>ointment  which 
was  to  fall  upon  a  young  man  who  really  did  his  best  to  get  a 
fortune. 

•  •••••• 

"  Oh,  Robert !  "  said  my  Magdalen  to  me,  two  days  before  tlie 
match  was  to  come  off,  "  I  have  such  a  kind  letter  from  Uncle  Sam 
in  London.  I  wrote  to  him  as  you  wished.  He  says  that  he  is 
coming  down  to-morrow  ;  that  he  litis  liearil  of  you  often,  and  knows 
your  character  very  weU ;  and  that  he  has  got  a  very  handsome 
jiresent  for  us  !     What  can  it  be,  I  wonder  ?  " 

"  Is  he  rich,  my  soul's  adored  ?  "  says  L 

"  He  is  a  bachelor,  with  a  fine  trade,  and  nobody  to  leave  his 
money  to." 

"  His  present  can't  be  less  than  a  thousand  pounds  ? "  says  I. 

"  Or,  perliajis,  a  silver  tea-set,  and  some  corner-dishes,"  says  she. 

But  we  could  not  agree  to  this  :  it  was  too  little — too  mean  for 
a  man  of  her  uncle's  wealth ;  and  we  both  determined  it  must  be 
the  thousand  pounds. 

"  Dear  good  uncle  !  he's  to  be  liere  by  the  coach,"  says  Magdalen. 
"  Let  us  ask  a  little  party  to  meet  him."     And  so  we  did,  and  so 


EESTORATION    DAY  559 

they  came :  my  father  and  mother,  old  Crutty  in  his  best  wig,  ^and 
the  parson  who  was  to  marry  us  the  next  day.  The  coach  wa's  to 
come  in  at  six.  And  there  was  the  tea-table,  and  there  was  tlie 
punch-bowl,  and  everybody  ready  and  smiling  to  receive  our  dear 
imcle  from  London. 

Six  o'clock  came,  and  the  coach,  and  the  man  from  tlie  "  Green 
Dragon"  with  a  portmanteau,  and  a  fat  old  gentleman  walking 
behind,  of  whom  I  just  caught  a  glimpse — a  venerable  old  gentle- 
man :  I  thought  I'd  seen  liim  before. 

.... 

Then  there  was  a  ring  at  the  bell ;  then  a  scuffling  and  bumping 
in  the  passage ;  then  old  Crutty  rushed  out,  and  a  great  laughing 
and  talking,  and  "How  are  youT'  and  so  on,  was  heard  at  the 
dt)or ;  and  then  the  parlour-door  was  flung  open,  and  Crutty  cried 
out  with  a  loud  voice — 

"  Good  people  all !  my  brother-in-law,  Mr.  Stiffelkini>  !  " 

Mr.  Stiffelkind  I — I  trembled  as  I  heard  the  name  ! 

Miss  Crutty  kissed  him  ;  mamma  made  him  a  ciu-tsey,  and 
papa  made  him  a  bow ;  and  Doctor  Snorter,  the  parson,  seized  his 
hand,  and  shook  it  most  warmly :  then  came  my  turn  ! 

"  Vat ! "  says  he.  "  It  is  my  dear  goot  yong  frend  from 
Doctor  Schvischentail's !  is  dis  de  yong  gentleman's  honorable 
moder  "  (mamma  smiled  and  made  a  curtsey),  "  and  dis  his  ladcr  ? 
Sare  and  madam,  you  should  be  broud  of  soch  a  sonn.  And  you 
my  niece,  if  you  have  him  for  a  husband  you  vill  be  locky,  dat  is 
all.  Vat  dink  you,  broder  Croty,  and  Madame  Stobbs,  I  'ave  made 
your  sonn's  boots  !     Ha — ha  !  " 

My  mamma  laughed,  and  said,  "  I  did  not  know  it,  but  I  am 
sure,  sir,  he  has  as  pretty  a  leg  for  a  boot  as  any  in  the  whole 
county." 

Old  Stiffelkind  roared  louder.  "  A  very  nice  leg,  ma'am,  and  a 
very  sheap  boot  too.  Vat !  did  you  not  know  I  make  his  boots  1 
Perhaps  you  did  not  know  something  else  too — p'raps  you  did  not 
know "  (and  here  the  monster  clapped  his  hand  on  the  table  and 
made  the  punch-ladle  tremble  in  the  bowl) — "p'raps  you  did  not 
know  as  dat  yong  man,  dat  Stobbs,  that  sneaking,  baltry,  squinting 
fellow,  is  as  vicked  as  he  is  ogly.  He  bot  a  pair  of  boots  from  me 
and  never  paid  for  dem.  Dat  is  noting,  nobody  never  j)ays ;  but 
he  bought  a  pair  of  boots,  and  called  himself  Lord  Coruvallis.  And 
I  was  fool  enough  to  believe  him  vdnce.  But  look  you,  niece 
Magdalen,  I  'ave  got  five  tousand  pounds  :  if  you  marry  him  I 
vill  not  give  you  a  benny.  But  look  you  what  I  will  gif  you  :  I 
bromised  you  a  bresent,  and  I  will  give  you  dese  ! " 


560  THE    FATAL    BOOTS 

And  the  old  monster  produced  those  very  boots  which  Swish- 
tail  had  made  him  take  back. 

•  ••••■• 

I  didnH  marry  Miss  Cnitty :  I  am  not  sorry  for  it  though. 
She  was  a  nasty,  ugly,  ill-tempered  wretch,  and  I've  always  said 
so  ever  since. 

And  all  this  arose  from  those  infernal  boots,  and  that  unlucky 
paragraph  in  the  county  paper — I'll  tell  you  how. 

In  the  first  place,  it  was  taken  up  as  a  quiz  by  one  of  the 
wicked,  profligate,  unprincipled  organs  of  the  London  press,  who 
chose  to  be  very  facetious  about  the  "  Mamage  in  High  Life,"  and 
made  all  sorts  of  jokes  about  me  and  my  dear  Miss  Crutty. 

Secondly,  it  was  read  in  tliis  Loudon  pajjcr  I)y  my  mortal  enemy. 
Bunting,  who  had  been  introduced  to  old  Stiffelkind's  acquaintance 
by  my  adventure  with  him,  and  had  his  shoes  made  regularly  by 
that  foreign  upstart. 

Thirdly,  he  happened  to  wai't  a  pair  of  shoes  made  at  this 
particidar  period,  and  as  he  was  measured  by  the  disgusting  old 
High-Dutch  cobbler,  he  told  him  his  old  friend  Stubbs  was  going 
to  be  married. 

"And  to  whom?"  said  old  Stift'elkind.  "To  a  voman  wit 
geld,  I  vill  take  my  oath." 

"  Yes,"  says  Bunting,  "  a  country  girl — a  Miss  Magdalen  Carotty 
or  Crotty,  at  a  place  called  Sloftemsquiggle." 

"  Schloffemschvnegel ! "  bursts  out  the  dreadful  bootmaker. 
"  Mein  Gott,  moin  Gott !  das  geht  nicht !  I  tell  you,  sare,  it  is 
no  go.  Miss  Crotty  is  my  niece.  I  vill  go  down  myself  I  vUl 
never  let  her  marry  dat  goot-for-nothing  sch windier  and  tief "  >Suck 
was  the  language  that  the  scoundrel  ventured  to  use  regarding  me ! 


JUNE— MARROWBONES   AND    CLEAVERS 

WAS  there  ever  such  confounded  ill-hick'?  My  whole  life 
has  been  a  tissue  of  ill-luck :  although  I  have  laboured 
perhaps  harder  than  any  man  to  make  a  fortune,  some- 
thing always  tumbled  it  down.  In  love  and  in  war  I  was  not 
like  others.  In  my  marriages,  I  had  an  eye  to  the  main  chance ; 
and  you  see  how  some  unlucky  blow  would  come  and  throw  them 
over.  In  the  army  I  was  just  as  j^rudent,  and  just  as  unfortunate. 
What  with  judicious  betting,  and  horse-swaj)ping,  good  luck  at 
Ijilliards,  and  economy,  I  do  believe  I  put  up  my  pay  every  year, — 
and  that  is  what  few  can  say  who  have  but  an  allowance  of  a 
hundred  a  year. 

I'll  tell  you  how  it  was.  I  used  to  be  very  kind  to  the  young 
men :  I  chose  their  horses  for  them,  and  their  wine ;  and  showed 
them  how  to  play  billiards,  or  dcarte,  of  long  mornings,  when  there 
was  nothing  better  to  do.  I  didn't  cheat :  I'd  rather  die  than 
cheat ; — but  if  fellows  tvill  play,  I  Avasn't  the  man  to  say  no — why 
should  I  ?  There  was  one  young  chap  in  our  regiment  off  whom  I 
really  think  I  cleared  three  hundred  a  year. 

His  name  was  I)ob])le.  He  was  a  tailor's  son,  and  wanted  to 
be  a  gentleman.  A  poor  weak  young  creature ;  easy  to  be  made 
tipsy ;  easy  to  be  cheated ;  and  easy  to  be  frightened.  It  was  a 
blessing  for  him  that  I  found  him  ;  for  if  anybody  else  had,  they 
would  have  plucked  him  of  every  shilling. 

Ensign  Dobble  and  I  were  sworn  friends.  I  rode  his  horses  for 
him,  and  chose  his  chami)agne,  and  did  everything,  in  fact,  that 
a  superior  mind  does  for  an  inferior, — when  the  inferior  has  got  the 
money.  We  were  inseparables, — hunting  everywhere  in  couples. 
We  even  managed  to  fall  in  love  with  two  sisters,  as  young  soldiers 
will  do,  you  know ;  for  the  dogs  fall  in  love  with  every  change  of 
quarters. 

Well,  once,  in  the  year  1793  (it  was  just  when  the  French  had 
cho]3])ed  poor  Louis's  head  off),  Dobble  and  I,  gay  young  chaps  as 
ever  wore  sword  by  side,  had  cast  our  eyes  upon  two  young  ladies 
by  the  name  of  Brisket,  daughters  of  a  butcher  in  the  town  where 
we  were  quartered.     The  dear  girls  fell  in  love  with  us,  of  course. 


562  THE    FATAL    BOOTS 

And  many  a  pleasant  walk  in  the  country,  many  a  treat  to  a  tea- 
garden,  many  a  smart  riband  and  brooch  used  Dobble  and  I  (for 
his  father  allowed  him  six  hundred  pounds,  and  our  purses  were  in 
common)  to  i)resent  to  these  young  ladies.  One  day,  fancy  our 
pleasure  at  receiving  a  note  couched  thus  : — 

"  Deer  Capting  Stubbs  and  Dobble, — Miss  Briskets  presents 
their  compliments,  and  as  it  is  probble  that  our  pai)a  will  be  till 
twelve  at  the  coi-prayshun  dinner,  we  request  the  pleasure  of  their 
company  to  tea." 

Didn't  we  go !  Punctually  at  six  we  were  in  the  little  back- 
parlour  ;  we  quaffed  more  Bohea,  and  made  more  love  than  half-a- 
dozen  ordinary  men  could.  At  nine,  a  little  punch-bowl  succeeded 
to  the  little  teapot ;  and,  bless  the  girls  !  a  nice  fresh  steak  was 
frizzling  on  tlie  gridiron  for  our  sujjpor.  Butchere  were  butchers 
then,  and  their  parlour  was  their  kitchen  too ;  at  least  old  Brisket's 
was — one  door  leading  into  the  shop,  and  one  into  the  yard,  on  the 
other  side  of  which  was  the  slaughter-house. 

Fancy,  then,  our  horror  when,  just  at  this  critical  time,  we 
heard  the  shop-door  open,  a  heavy  staggering  step  on  the  flags,  and 
aloud  husky  voice  from  the  simp,  shi)\iting,  "Hallo,  Susan;  hallo, 
Betsy!  show  a  light!"  Dobble  turned  as  white  as  a  sheet;  the 
two  girls  each  as  red  as  a  lobster ;  I  alone  preserved  my  presence  of 
mind.  "The  back-door,"  says  I. — "The  dog's  in  the  court,"  say 
they.  "  He's  not  so  bad  as  the  man,"  said  I.  "  Stop  ! "  cries 
Susan,  flinging  open  the  door  and  rushing  to  the  Are.  "Take  this, 
and  perhaps  it  will  quiet  him." 

What  do  you  think  "this"  was?  Fm  blest  if  it  was  not 
the  steak  ! 

She  pushed  us  out,  patted  and  hushed  the  dog,  and  was  in  again 
in  a  minute.  The  moon  was  shining  on  the  court,  and  on  the 
slaughter-house,  where  there  hung  the  wliitc  ghastly  looking  carcasses 
of  a  couple  of  sheep ;  a  great  gutter  ran  down  the  court — a  gutter 
of  blood !  The  dog  was  devouring  his  beef-steak  {our  beef-steak)  in 
silence  ;  and  we  could  see  through  the  little  window  the  girls  bustling 
about  to  pack  up  the  supper-things,  aiid  presently  the  shoj)-door 
being  opened,  old  Brisket  entering,  staggering,  angry,  and  drunk. 
What's  more,  we  could  see,  perched  on  a  high  stool,  and  nodding 
politely,  as  if  to  salute  old  Brisket,  the  feather  of  Dohhh's  cocked 
hat  !  When  Doblilc  saw  it,  he  turned  white,  and  deadly  sick  ;  and 
the  poor  fellow,  in  an  agony  of  fright,  sank  shivering  down  upon 
one  of  the  butcher's  cutting-blocks,  which  was  in  the  yard. 

We  saw  old  Brisket  look  steadily  (as  steadily  as  he  could)  at 


MARROWBONES    AND    CLEAVERS  563 

the  confounded,  imi)U(lent,  pert,  wasijiing  feather ;  and  then  an  idea 
began  to  dawn  upon  his  mind,  tliat  there  was  a  head  to  the  hat ; 
and  then  he  slowly  rose  up — he  was  a  man  of  six  feet,  and  fifteen 
stone— he  rose  up,  put  on  his  apron  and  sleeves,  and  took  down  his 
cleaver. 

Betsy,"  says  he,  "open  the  yard  door."  But  the  poor  girls 
screamed,  and  flung  on  their  knees,  and  begged,  and  wept,  and  did 
their  very  best  to  prevent  him.  "  Open  thk  Yard  Door  !  "  says 
he,  with  a  thundering  loud  voice  ;  and  the  great  bidhhjg,  hearing  it, 
started  up  and  uttered  a  yell  which  sent  me  flying  to  the  other  end 
of  the  court. — Dobble  couldn't  move;  he  was  sitting  on  the  block, 
blubbering  like  a  baby. 

The  door  opened,  and  out  Mr.  Brisket  came. 

"  To  him,  Jowler  !  "  says  lie.  "  Keep  him,  Joivlerl  "■ — and  the 
horrid  dog  flew  at  me,  and  I  flew  back  into  the  corner,  and  drew 
my  sword,  determining  to  sell  my  life  dearly. 

"  That's  it,"  says  Brisket.  "  Keep  liim  there, — good  dog, — 
good  dog  !  And  now,  sir,"  says  he,  turning  round  to  Dobble,  "  is 
this  your  hat  1 " 

"  Yes,"  says  Dobble,  fit  to  choke  with  fright. 

"  Well,  then,"  says  Brisket,  "  it's  my — (hie) — my  painful  duty 
to — (hie) — to  tell  you,  that  as  I've  got  your  hat,  I  must  have  your 
head  ; — it's  painful,  but  it  must  be  done.  You'd  better — (hie) — 
settle  yourself  com — comfumarably  against  that — (hie) — that  block, 
and  I'll  chop  it  off"  before  you  can  say  Jack — (hie) — no,  I  mean 
Jack  Robinson." 

Dobble  went  down  on  his  knees  and  shrieked  out,  "  I'm  an  only 
son,  Mr.  Brisket  !  I'll  marry  her,  sir ;  I  will,  upon  my  honour, 
sir. — Consider  my  mother,  sir  ;  consider  my  mother." 

"  That's  it,  sir,"  says  Brisket — "  that's  a  good — (hie) — a  good 
boy  ; — just  put  your  head  down  quietly — and  I'll  have  it  ofi" — yes, 
off" — as  if  you  were  Louis  the  Six — the  Sixtix — the  Siktickleteenth. 
— I'll  chop  the  other  chaj-^  afferwards." 

When  I  heard  this,  I  made  a  sudden  bound  back,  and  gave  such 
a  cry  as  any  man  might  who  was  in  such  a  way.  The  ferocious 
Jowler,  thinking  I  was  going  to  escape,  flew  at  my  throat ; 
screaming  furious ;  I  flung  out  my  arms  in  a  kind  of  desperation, 
— and,  to  my  wonder,  down  fell  the  dog,  dead,  and  run  through 
the  body ! 

At  this  moment  a  posse  of  people  rushed  in  upon  old  Brisket, — 
one  of  his  daughters  had  had  the  sense  to  summon  them, — and 
Dobble's  head  was  saved.  And  when  they  saw  the  dog  lying  dead 
at  my  feet,  my  ghastly  look,  my  bloody  sword,  they  gave  me  no 


564  THE    FATAL    BOOTS 

small  credit  for  my  bravery.      "A  terrible  fellow  that  Stubbs,"  said 
they  ;  and  so  the  mess  said,  the  next  day. 

I  didn't  tell  them  that  the  dog  had  committed  suicide — wliy 
shoidd  I  ?  Anil  I  didn't  say  a  word  about  Cobble's  cowardice.  I 
said  he  was  a  brave  fellow,  and  fought  Like  a  tiger ;  and'  this  pre- 
vented him  from  telling  tales.  I  had  the  dogskin  made  into  a  i)air 
of  pistol-holsters,  and  looked  so  fierce,  and  got  such  a  name  for 
courage  in  our  regiment,  tliat  when  we  had  to  meet  the  regidars. 
Bob  Stubbs  was  always  the  man  put  forward  to  support  the  lionour 
of  the  corps.  The  women,  you  know,  adore  courage  ;  and  such  was 
my  reputation  at  tiiis  time,  tluit  I  might  have  had  my  i)ick  out  of 
half-a-dozen,  with  three,  foiu-,  or  five  thousand  pounds  apiece,  who 
M'ci-e  dying  for  love  of  me  and  my  red  coat.  But  I  wasn't  such  a 
fool.  I  had  been  t^^•ice  on  the  jwint  of  marriage,  and  twice  dis- 
ajjpointed ;  and  I  vowed  by  all  the  Saints  to  liave  a  wife,  and  a 
rich  one.  Depend  upon  this,  as  an  infallible  maxim  to  guide  you 
through  life  :  Ifs  as  easy  to  get  a  rich  icife  as  a  j^oor  one  ; — the 
same  bait  tliat  will  hook  a  trout  will  hook  a  salmon. 


JULY— SUMMARY  PROCEEDINGS 

DOBBLE'S  reputation  for  courage  was  uot  increased  by  the 
butcher's-dog  adventure ;  but  mine  stood  very  high  :  Httle 
Stubbs  was  voted  the  boldest  chap  of  all  the  bold  North 
Bungays.  And  though  I  must  confess,  what  was  proved  by  subse- 
quent circumstances,  that  nature  has  not  endowed  me  with  a  large, 
or  even,  I  may  say,  an  average  share  of  bravery,  yet  a  man  is  very 
willing  to  flatter  himself  to  the  contrary  ;  and,  after  a  little  time,  I 
got  to  believe  that  my  killing  the  dog  was  an  action  of  undaunted 
courage,  and  that  I  was  as  gallant  as  any  of  the  one  hundred  thousand 
heroes  of  our  army.  I  always  had  a  military  taste — it's  only  the 
brutal  part  of  the  profession,  the  horrid  fighting  and  blood,  that  I 
don't  like. 

I  suppose  the  regiment  was  not  very  brave  itself — being  only 
militia;  but  certain  it  was,  that  Stubbs  was  considered  a  most 
terrible  felk)w,  and  I  swore  so  nuieli,  and  looked  so  fierce,  that  you 
would  have  fancied  I  had  made  half  a  hundred  campaigns.  I  was 
second  in  several  duels  :  the  umpire  in  all  disputes  ;  and  such  a  crack 
shot  myself,  that  fellows  were  shy  of  insulting  me.  As  for  Dobble, 
I  took  him  under  my  protection ;  and  he  became  so  attached  to  me, 
that  we  ate,  drank,  and  rode  together  every  day ;  his  father  didn't 
care  for  money,  so  long  as  his  son  was  in  good  company — and  what 
so  good  as  that  of  the  celebrated  Stubbs  1  Heigho !  I  ^vas  good 
company  in  those  days,  and  a  brave  fellow  too,  as  I  should  have 
remained,  but  for — what  I  shtdl  tell  the  public  immediately. 

It  happened,  in  the  fatal  year  ninety-six,  that  the  brave  North 
Bungays  were  quartered  at  Portsmouth,  a  maritime  place,  which  I 
need  not  describe,  and  which  I  wish  I  had  never  seen.  I  might 
have  been  a  General  now,  or,  at  least,  a  rich  man. 

The  red-coats  carried  everything  before  them  in  those  days ;  and 
I,  such  a  crack  character  as  I  was  in  my  regiment,  was  very  well 
received  by  the  townspeople  :  many  dinners  I  had  ;  many  tea-parties  ; 
many  lovely  young  ladies  did  I  lead  down  the  pleasant  country- 
dances. 

Well,  although  I  had  had  the  two  former  rebuli's  in  love  whicli 
I  have  described,  my  heart  was  still  young ;  and  the  fact  was,  know- 
•2s 


566  THE    FATAL    BOOTS 

ing  that  a  girl  witli  a  fortune  was  my  only  chance,  I  made  love  here 
as  furiously  as  ever.  I  shan't  describe  the  lovely  creatures  on  whom 
I  fixed,  whilst  at  Portsmouth.  I  tried  more  than — several — and  it 
is  a  singular  fact,  which  I  never  have  been  able  to  account  for,  that, 
successful  as  I  was  with  ladies  of  maturer  age,  by  the  yoimg  ones  I 
was  refused  regular. 

But  "  faint  heart  never  won  fair  lady  ; "  and  so  I  went  on,  and 
on,  until  I  liad  got  a  Miss  Clopper,  a  tolerably  rich  navy-contractor's 
daughter,  into  such  a  way,  that  I  really  don't  think  she  could  have 
refused  me.  Her  brother,  Cajjtain  Clopper,  was  in  a  line  regiment, 
and  helped  me  as  much  as  ever  he  could ;  he  swore  I  was  such  a 
brave  fellow. 

As  I  had  received  a  number  of  attentions  from  Clopper,  I 
determined  to  invite  liim  to  dinner ;  which  I  could  do  without  any 
sacrifice  of  my  i)rinciple  upon  this  point  :  for  tlie  fact  is,  Dobble 
lived  at  an  inn,  and  as  he  sent  all  liis  bills  to  his  fiitber,  I  made  no 
scruple  to  use  his  table.  We  dined  in  tlie  cofiee-room,  Dobble  bring- 
ing his  friend  ;  and  so  we  made  a  party  carry,  as  the  French  say. 
Some  naval  otficers  were  occupied  in  a  similar  way  at  a  table  next 
to  ours. 

.  Well — I  didn't  spare  the  bottle,  either  for  myself  or  for  my 
friends ;  and  we  gi-ew  very  talkative,  and  very  affectionate  as  tlie 
drinking  went  on.  Each  man  told  stories  of  liis  gaUantry  in  the 
field,  or  amongst  the  ladies,  as  officers  will,  after  dinner.  Clopper 
confided  to  the  comi>any  his  wisli  tliat  I  should  marry  his  sister,  and 
vowed  that  he  tliouglit  me  the  best  fellow  in  Cliristeudom. 

Ensign  Dolible  assented  to  this.  "  But  let  Miss  Clopper  beware," 
says  he,  "  for  Stubbs  is  a  sad  fellow  :  he  has  had  I  don't  know  how 
many  liaisons  already ;  and  he  has  been  engaged  to  I  don't  know 
how  many  women." 

"  Indeed  !  "  says  Clopper.  "  Come,  Stubbs,  tell  us  your  ad- 
ventures." 

"  Psha  !  "  said  I  modestly,  "  there  is  nothing  indeed  to  tell.  I 
have  been  in  love,  my  dear  boy — who  has  not  ? — and  I  have  l)een 
jilted — who  has  not  1 " 

Clopi)er  swore  that  he  would  blow  his  sister's  brains  out  if  ever 
she  served  me  so. 

"  Tell  him  about  Miss  Crutty,"  said  Dobble.  "  He  !  he  !  Stubbs 
served  that  woman  out,  anyhow ;  she  didn't  jilt  him,  I'll  be  sworn." 

"  Really,  Doljble,  you  are  too  bad,  and  should  not  mention  names. 
The  fact  is,  the  girl  was  desperately  in  love  with  me,  and  had  money 
— sixty  thousand  pounds,  upon  my  reputation.  Well,  everything  was 
arranged,  when  who  should  come  down  from  London  but  a  relation." 

"  Well,  and  did  he  prevent  the  match  1 " 


SUMMARY    PROCEEDINGS  567 

"Prevent  it — yes,  sir,  I  believe  you  he  did;  thongh  nnt  in  the 
sense  that  you  mean.  He  would  have  given  his  eyes — ay,  and  ten 
thousand  pounds  more — if  I  would  have  accepted  the  girl,  but  I 
would  not." 

"  Why,  in  the  name  of  goodness  ? " 

"  Sir,  her  uncle  was  a  shoemaker.  I  never  would  debase  myself 
by  marrying  into  such  a  family." 

"  Of  course  not,"  said  Dobble  ;  "  he  couldn't,  you  know.  Well, 
now — tell  him  about  the  other  girl,  Mary  Waters,  you  know." 

"  Hush,  Dobble,  hush  !  don't  you  see  one  of  those  naval  officers 
has  turned  round  and  heard  you  1  My  dear  Clopper,  it  was  a  mere 
childish  bagatelle." 

"  Well,  but  let's  have  it,"  said  Clopper—"  let's  have  it.  I  won't 
tell  my  sister,  you  know."  And  he  put  his  hand  to  his  nose  and 
looked  monstrous  wise. 

"  Nothing  of  that  sort,  Clopper^no,  no — 'pon  honour — little 
Bob  Stubbs  is  no  libertine  ;  anfl*the  story  is  very  simple.  You  see 
that  my  father  has  a  small  place,  merely  a  few  hundred  acres,  at 
Sloffenisquiggle.  Isn't  it  a  funny  name  1  Hang  it,  there's  the  naval 
gentleman  staring  again  " — (I  looked  terribly  fierce  as  I  returned 
this  officer's  stare,  and  continued  in  a  loud  careless  voice).  "  Well, 
at  this  Sloffenisquiggle  there  lived  a  girl,  a  Miss  Waters,  the  niece 
of  some  blackguard  apothecary  in  the  neighbourhood  ;  but  my  mother 
took  a  fancy  to  the  girl,  and  had  her  up  to  the  park  and  petted  her. 
We  were  both  young — and — and — the  girl  fell  in  love  with  me, 
that's  the  fact.  I  was  obliged  to  rejjel  some  rather  warm  advances 
that  she  made  me ;  and  here,  upon  my  honour  as  a  gentleman,  you 
have  all  the  story  about  which  that  silly  Dobble  makes  such  a  noise." 

Just  as  I  finished  this  sentence,  I  found  myself  suddenly  taken 
by  the  nose,  and  a  voice  shouting  out, — 

"  Mr.  Stubbs,  you  are  a  Liar  and  a  Scoundrel  !  Take  this, 
sir, — and  this,  for  daring  to  meddle  with  the  name  of  an  innocent 
lady." 

I  turned  round  as  well  as  I  could— for  the  ruffian  had  j)ulled  me 
out  of  my  chair — and  beheld  a  great  marine  monster,  six  feet  high, 
who  was  occupied  in  beating  and  kicking  me,  in  the  most  ungentle- 
manly  manner,  on  my  cheeks,  my  ribs,  and  between  the  tails  of  my 
coat.  "  He  is  a  liar,  gentlemen,  and  a  scoundrel !  The  bootmaker 
had  detected  him  in  swindling,  and  so  his  niece  refused  him.  Miss 
Waters  was  engaged  to  him  from  childhood,  and  he  deserted  her  for 
the  bootmaker's  niece,  who  was  richer."— And  then  sticking  a  card 
between  my  stock  and  my  coat-collar,  in  what  is  called  the  scrutf 
of  my  neck,  the  disgusting  brute  gave  me  another  blow  behind  my 
back,  and  left  the  coffee-room  with  his  friends 


568  THE    FATAL    BOOTS 

Dobble  raised  me  up  ;  and  taking  the  card  from  my  neck,  read, 
Captain  Waters.  Clopper  poiu-ed  me  out  a  glass  of  water,  and 
said  in  my  ear,  "  If  this  is  true,  you  are  an  infernal  s(;oundrel, 
Stubbs  ;  and  must  fight  me,  after  Captain  Waters  ;  "  and  he  flounced 
out  of  the  room. 

I  had  but  one  course  to  pursue.  I  sent  the  Captain  a  short 
and  contemptuous  note,  saying  that  he  was  beneath  niy  anger.  As 
for  Clopper,  I  did  not  condescend  to  notice  his  remark  ;  but  in  order 
to  get  rid  of  the  troublesome  society  of  these  low  blackguards,  I 
determined  to  gratify  an  inclination  I  hiu\  long  entertained,  and 
make  a  little  tour.  I  ajtplied  for  leave  of  absence,  and  set  off  that 
very  night.  I  can  fancy  the  disappointment  of  the  brutal  Waters, 
on  coming,  as  he  did,  the  next  morning  to  my  quarters  and  finding 
me  gone.     Ha  !  ha  ! 

After  this  adventure  I  bt-came  sick  of  a  military  life — at  least 
the  life  of  my  own  regiment,  where  the  officers,  such  was  their 
unac(;ountable  meanness  and  prejudife  against  me,  absolutely  refused 
to  see  mc  at  mess.  Colonel  Craw  «ent  me  a  lett»'r  to  this  efi'ect, 
which  I  treated  as  it  deserved. — I  never  once  alluded  to  it  in  any 
way,  and  have  since  never  spoken  a  single  word  to  any  man  in  the 
North  Bungays. 


AUGUST— DOGS   HAVE    THEIR   DAYS 

SEE,  now,  what  life  is !  I  have  had  ill-kxck  on  ill-hick  from 
that  day  to  this.  I  have  sunk  in  the  world,  and,  instead  of 
riding  my  horse  and  drinking  my  wine,  as  a  real  gentleman 
shoidd,  have  hardly  enough  now  to  buy  a  pint  of  ale ;  ay,  and  am 
very  glad  when  anybody  will  treat  me  to  one.  Why,  why  was  I 
bom  to  undergo  such  unmerited  misfortunes  ? 

You  must  know  that  very  soon  after  my  adventure  with  Miss 
Crutty,  and  that  cowardly  ruttian,  Ca})tain  Waters  (he  sailed  tlie 
day  after  his  insult  to  me,  or  I  should  most  certainly  have  blown 
his  brains  out ;  nov:  he  is  living  in  England,  and  is  my  relation  ; 
but,  of  course,  I  cut  the  fellow) — very  soon  after  these  painful  events 
another  happened,  which  ended,  too,  in  a  sad  disappointment.  ]\Iy 
dear  papa  died,  and,  instead  of  leaving  five  thousand  pounds,  as  I 
expected  at  the  very  least,  left  only  his  estate,  which  was  worth  but 
two.  The  land  and  house  were  left  to  me ;  to  mamma  and  my 
sisters  he  left,  to  be  sure,  a  sum  of  two  thousand  pounds  in  the 
hands  of  that  eminent  firm  Messrs.  Pump,  Aldgate  &  Co.,  which 
failed  within  six  months  after  his  demise,  and  paid  in  five  years 
about  one  shilling  and  idnepence  in  the  pound ;  which  really  was  all 
my  dear  mother  and  sisters  had  to  live  upon. 

The  poor  creatures  were  quite  unused  to  money  matters  ;  and, 
would  you  believe  it  ?  when  the  news  came  of  Pump  and  Aldgate's 
failure,  mamma  only  smiled,  and  threw  her  eyes  up  to  heaven,  and 
said,  "  Blessed  be  God,  that  we  have  still  wherewithal  to  live. 
There  are  tens  of  thousands  in  this  world,  dear  children,  who  would 
count  our  poverty  riches."  And  with  this  she  kissed  my  two  sisters, 
who  began  to  blubber,  as  girls  always  will  do,  and  threw  their  arms 
round  her  neck,  and  then  round  my  neck,  until  I  was  half  stifled 
with  their  embraces,  and  slobbered  all  over  with  their  tears. 

"Dearest  mamma,"  said  I,  "I  am  very  glad  to  see  the  noble 
manner  in  which  you  bear  your  loss;  and  more  still  to  know  that 
you  are  so  rich  as  to  be  able  to  put  up  with  it."  The  fact  was,  I 
really  thought  the  old  lady  had  got  a  private  hoard  of  her  own,  as 
many  of  them  have — a  thousand  pounds  or  so  in  a  stocking.  Had 
she  put  by  thirty  pounds  a  year,  as  well  she  might,  for  the  thirty 


570  THE    FATAL    BOOTS 

years  of  her  marriage,  there  would  have  been  nine  hundred  pounds 
clear,  and  no  mistake.  But  still  I  was  angry  to  tliink  that  any 
such  paltry  concealment  had  been  practised — concealment  too  of  my 
money ;  so  I  turned  on  her  pretty  sharply,  and  continued  my  speech. 
"  You  say,  ma'am,  that  you  are  rich,  and  that  Pump  and  Aldgate's 
failure  has  no  effect  upon  you.  I  am  very  hajipy  to  hear  you  say 
so,  ma'am — very  happy  that  you  are  rich  ;  and  I  should  like  to 
know  where  your  property,  my  father's  property,  for  you  liad  none 
of  your  own,-— I  should  like  to  know  wliere  this  money  lies — where 
you  have  concealed  it,  ma'am  ;  and  permit  me  to  say,  that  when  I 
agreed  to  boanl  you  and  my  two  sistci-s  for  eighty  pounds  a  year,  I 
did  not  know  that  you  had  other  resources  tlian  those  mentioned  in 
my  blessed  father's  will." 

This  I  said  to  her  because  I  hated  the  meanness  of  concealment, 
not  because  I  lost  by  the  bargain  of  boarding  tliem  :  for  the  three 
poor  things  did  not  eat  much  more  than  sparrows ;  and  I've  often 
since  calculated  that  I  had  a  clear  twenty  pounds  a  year  profit  out 
of  them. 

INIamma  and  the  girls  looked  quite  astonished  wlien  I  made  the 
speech.     "  What  does  he  mean  1 "  said  Lucy  to  Eliza. 

Mamma  repeated  tlie  question.  "  My  beloved  Robert,  wliat 
concealment  are  you  talking  of  \ " 

"I  am  talking  of  concealed  property,  ma'am,"  says  I  sternly. 

"  And  do  you — what — can  you — do  you  really  suppose  tliat  I 
have  concealed — any  of  tliat  blessed  sa-a-a-aint's  prop-op-op-operty?" 
screams  out  mamma.  "  Robert,"  says  she — "  Bob,  my  own  darling 
boy — my  fondest,  best  beloved,  now  he  is  gone  "  (meaning  my  late 
governor — more  tears) — "  you  don't,  you  caiiiiot  fancy  that  your 
own  mother,  who  bore  you,  and  n»u\sed  you,  and  wept  for  you,  and 
would  give  her  all  to  save  you  from  a  moment's  harm — you  don't 
suppose  that  she  would  che-e-e-eat  you !  "  And  here  she  gave  a 
louder  screech  than  ever,  and  flung  back  on  the  sof;i  ;  and  one  of 
my  sisters  went  and  tumbled  into  her  arms,  and  t'other  went  round, 
and  the  kissing  and  slobbering  scene  went  on  agjiin,  only  I  was  left 
out,  thank  goodness.     I  hate  such  sentimentality. 

"  Che-e-e-eat  me,"  says  I,  mocking  her.  "  What  do  you  mean, 
then,  by  saying  you're  so  rich  1  Say,  have  you  got  money,  or  have 
you  not  1 "  (And  I  rapped  out  a  good  niunber  of  oaths,  too,  which 
I  don't  put  in  liere ;  but  I  was  in  a  dreadful  fury,  that's  the 
fact.) 

"So  help  me  Heaven,"  says  mamma,  in  answer,  going  down  on 
her  knees  and  smacking  her  two  hands,  "  I  have  but  a  Queen  Anne's 
guinea  in  the  wliole  of  this  wicked  Avorld." 

"  Then  wliat,  madam,  induces  you  to  tell  these  absiu"d  stories  to 


I 


DOGS    HAVE    THEIR    DAYS  571 

me,  and  to  talk  about  your  riches,  wlien  you  know  tliat  you  and  your 
daughters  are  beggars,  ma'am— be<j,/ars  ?  " 

"My  dearest  boy,  have  we  not  "got  the  house,  and  tlu;  furniture, 
and  a  hundred  a  year  still ;  and  have  you  not  great  talents,  which 
will  make  all  our  fortunes  T'  says  Mrs.  Stubbs,  getting  ui)'(.lt  h.T 
knees,  aji<l  making  believe  to  smile  as  she  clawed  hold  of  my  hand 
and  kissed  it. 

This  was  too  cool.  "  Yo^i  have  got  a  hundred  a  year,  ma'am  ?" 
says  I—"  you  have  got  a  house  1  Upon  my  soul  and  honour  this  is 
the  first  I  ever  heard  of  it ;  and  I'll  tell  you  what,  ma'am,"  says  I 
(and  it  cut  her  pretty  sharj>hj  too)  :  "As  you've  got  it,  you'd  better 
(JO  and  live  in  it.  I've  got  quite  enough  to  do  with  my  own  house, 
and  every  penny  of  my  own  income." 

Upon  this  speech   the  old  Imly  said  nothing,  but  she  gave  a 
screech  loud  enough  to  be  lieard  from  here  to  York,  and  down  she 
fell — kicking  and  struggling  in  a  regular  fit. 
• 

I  did  not  see  Mrs.  Stubbs  for  some  days  after  this,  and  the  girls 
used  to  come  d(iwn  to  meals,  and  never  speak  ;  going  uj)  again  and 
stopping  with  their  mother.  At  last,  one  day,  both  of  them  came 
in  very  solemn  to  my  study,  and  Eliza,  the  eldest,  said,  "  Robert, 
mamma  has  paid  you  our  board  up  to  Michaelmas." 

"  She  has,"  says  I ;  for  I  always  took  precious  good  care  to  have 
it  in  advance. 

"  She  says,  Robert,  that  on  Michaelmas  Day — we'll — we'll  go 
away,  Robert." 

"  Oh,  she's  going  to  her  own  house,  is  she,  Lizzy  1  Very  good. 
She'll  wanj;  the  furniture,  I  suppose,  and  that  she  may  have  too, 
for  I'm  going  to  sell  the  place  myself."  And  so  that  matter  was 
settled. 

On  Michaelmas  Day — and  during  these  two  months  I  hadn't, 
I  do  believe,  seen  my  mother  twice  (once,  about  two  o'clock  in  tlie 
morning,  I  woke  and  found  her  sobbing  over  my  bed) — on  Michael- 
mas-Day morning,  Eliza  comes  to  me  and  says,  "  Rohert^  they  will 
come  and  fetch  us  at  six  this  evening."  Well,  as  this  was  the  last 
day,  I  went  and  got  the  best  goose  I  could  find  (I  don't  think  I 
ever  saw  a  primer,  or  ate  more  hearty  myself),  and  had  it  roasted 
at  three,  with  a  good  })udding  afterwards ;  and  a  glorious  bowl  of 
punch.  "  Here's  a  health  to  you,  dear  girls,"  says  I,  "  and  you, 
Ma,  and  good  luck  to  all  three ;  and  as  you've  not  eaten  a 
morsel,  I  hope  you  won't  object  to  a  glass  of  punch.  It's  the  old 
stuff,  you  know,  ma'am,  tliat  that  Waters  sent  to  my  father  fifteen 
years  ago." 


572 


THE    FATAL    BOOTS 


Six  o'clock  came,  and  with  it  came  a  flue  barouche.  As  I  live, 
Captain  Waters  was  on  the  box  (it  was  his  coach) ;  that  old  thief. 
Bates,  jumijed  out,  entered  my  house,  and  before  I  could  say  Jack 
Robinson,  whipped  oft"  mamma  to  the  carriage  :  the  girls  followed, 
just  giving  me  a  hasty  shake  of  the  hand  ;  and  as  mamma  was 
helped  in,  Mary  Waters,  who  was  sitting  inside,  flung  her  arms 
round  her,  and  then  round  the  girls  ;  and  the  Doctor,  who  acted 
footman,  jumi)ed  on  the  box,  and  oft"  they  went ;  taking  no  more 
notice  of  me  than  if  I'd  been  a  nonentity. 

Here's  a  j»icture  of  the  whole  business  : — Mamma  and  Miss 
Waters  are  sitting  kissing  each  other  in  the  carriage,  with  the  two 
girls  in  the  back  seat ;  Waters  is  driving  (a  jtreciiMis  bad  driver  he 
is  too) ;  and  I'm  standing  at  the  garden  door,  and  whistling.  That 
old  fool  Mary  Mahnvney  is  crying  behind  the  garden  gate  :  she  went 
oft'  next  day  along  with  the  furniture ;  and  I  to  get  into  that 
precious  scrape  which  I  siiall  mciitiun  next. 


SEPTEMBER— PLUCKING    A    GOOSE 

AFTER  iny  papa's  death,  as  he  left  me  no  money,  and  only  a 
little  land,  I  put  my  estate  into  an  auctioneer's  hands,  and 
determined  to  amuse  my  solitude  with  a  trip  to  some  of  our 
fashionable  watering-places.  My  house  was  now  a  desert  to  me. 
I  need  not  say  how  the  departure  of  my  dear  parent,  and  her 
children,  lefl  me  sad  and  lonely. 

Well,  I  had  a  little  ready  money,  and,  for  the  estate,  expected 
a  couple  of  thousand  pounds.  I  had  a  good  military-looking  person  : 
for  though  I  had  absolutely  cut  the  old  North  Bungays  (indeed, 
after  my  affair  with  Waters,  Colonel  Craw  hinted  to  me,  in  the 
most  friendly  manner,  that  I  had  better  resign) — though  I  had  left 
the  army,  I  still  retained  the  rank  of  Captain ;  knowing  the  advan- 
tages attendant  upon  that  title  in  a  watering-place  tour. 

Captain  Stubbs  became  a  great  dandy  at  Cheltenham,  Harro- 
gate, Bath,  Leamington,  and  other  places.  I  was  a  good  whist  and 
billiard  player ;  so  much  so,  that  in  many  of  these  towns,  the 
people  used  to  refuse,  at  last,  to  play  with  me,  knowing  how  for  I 
was  their  superior.  Fancy  my  surprise,  about  five  years  after  the 
Portsmouth  atfair,  when  strolling  one  day  up  the  High  Street,  in 
Leamington,  my  eyes  liglited  upon  a  young  man,  whom  I  re- 
membered in  a  certain  butcher's  yard,  and  elsewhere — no  other,  in 
fact,  than  Do])ble.  He,  too,  was  dressed  en  militaire,  with  a 
frogged  coat  and  spurs ;  and  was  walking  with  a  showy-looking, 
Jewish-faced,  black-haired  lady,  glittering  with  chains  and  rings, 
with  a  green  bonnet  and  a  bird-of-Paradise — a  lilac  shawl,  a  yellow 
gown,  pink  silk  stockings,  and  liglit-bluc  shoes.  Three  children, 
and  a  handsome  footman,  were  walking  behind  her,  and  the  ]iarty, 
not  seeing  me,  entered  the  "  Royal  Hotel "  together. 

I  was  known  myself  at  the  "  Royal,"  and  calling  one  of  the 
waiters,  learned  the  names  of  the  lady  and  gentleman.  He  was 
Captain  Dobble,  the  son  of  the  rich  army-clothier,  Dobble  (Dobl)le, 
Hobble  &  Co.,  of  Pall  Mall)  ;— the  lady  was  a  Mrs.  Manasseh, 
widow  of  an  American  Jew,  living  quietly  at  Leamington  with  her 
children,  but  possessed  of  an  immense  property.  There's  Jio  use 
to  give  one's  self  out  to  be  an  absolute  pauper :  so  the  fact  is,  that 


574  THE    FATAL    BOOTS 

I  myself  went  everywhere  with  the  character  of  a  man  of  very  large 
means.  My  father  had  died,  leaving  me  immense  sums  of  money, 
and  landed  estates.  Ah !  I  was  the  gentleman  then,  the  real 
gentleman,  and  everybody  wa.s  too  happy  to  have  me  at  table. 

Well,  I  came  the  next  day  and  left  a  card  for  Dobl)le,  with  a 
note.  He  neither  returned  my  visit,  nor  answered  my  note.  Tlie 
day  after,  however,  I  met  him  with  the  widow,  as  before ;  and 
going  up  to  him,  very  kindly  seized  him  by  the  hand,  and  swore  I 
was — as  really  was  the  case — charmed  to  see  him.  Doblile  hung 
back,  to  my  surprise,  and  I  do  believe  the  creature  would  have  cut 
me,  if  he  dared  ;  but  I  gave  him  a  frowTi,  and  said — 

"What,  Dobljle  my  boy,  don't  you  recollect  old  Stubbs,  ami 
our  adventure  with  the  imtclier's  daughters — ha  ? " 

Dobble  gave  a  sickly  kind  of  grin,  and  said,  "  Oh  !  ah  !  yes ! 
It  is — yes  !  it  is,  I  believe.  Captain  Stubbs." 

"An  old  comrade,  madam,  of  Captain  Dol)l)le's,  and  one  who 
has  heard  so  nuich,  and  seen  so  much  of  your  Ladyship,  that  he 
must  take  the  liberty  of  begging  his  friend  to  introduce  him." 

Dobble  was  obliged  to  take  the  hint ;  and  Captain  Stubl>8  was 
duly  presented  to  Mrs.  Maiiasseli.  The  lady  was  as  gracious  as 
possible;  and  when,  at  the  end  of  tlie  walk,  we  parted,  she  said 
she  "  hoped  Captain  Do])ble  would  liring  me  to  her  apartments  that 
evening,  where  she  expected  a  few  friends."  EverylttMly,  you  see, 
knows  everybody  at  Leamington  ;  and  I,  for  my  part,  was  well 
known  as  a  retired  officer  of  the  army,  wlio,  on  his  fatlier's  death, 
iiad  conic  into  seven  thousand  a  year.  Dobble's  arrival  had  l»ecn 
subscijuent  to  mine ;  Init  putting  up  as  he  ilid  at  the  "  Royal 
Hotel,"  and  dining  at  the  ordinary  there  with  the  widow,  he  iiad 
made  her  acfiuaintance  Ix^fore  I  had.  I  saw,  however,  that  if  I 
allowed  him  to  talk  about  me,  as  he  could,  I  should  be  comjielleil 
to  give  up  all  my  hopes  and  plciisures  at  Leamington  ;  antl  so  I 
determined  to  be  short  with  him.  As  soon  as  the  lady  had  gone 
into  tli(^  hotel,  my  frieml  Dobble  was  for  leaving  me  likewise  ;  but 
I  stoiii)e<l  him,  and  said,  "Mr.  I)obble,  I  saw  what  you  meant  just 
now  :  you  wanted  to  cut  me,  l»ecause,  forsooth,  I  did  not  choo.^c 
to  fight  a  duel  at  Portsmouth.  Now  look  you,  Dolible,  I  am  no 
hero,  but  I  am  not  such  a  coward  as  you — an<l  you  kjiow  it.  You 
are  a  very  different  man  to  deal  with  from  Waters  ;  and  /  viil  frjht 
this  time." 

Not  jierhaps  that  I  would  :  but  after  the  business  of  the  Initcher, 
I  knew  Dobble  to  be  as  great  a  coward  as  ever  lived  ;  and  there 
never  was  any  harm  in  threatening,  for  you  know  you  are  not 
obliged  to  stick  to  it  afterwards.  j\Iy  words  ha<l  their  effect  uj)on 
Dobble,  who  stuttered  and  looked  red,  and  then  declared  he  never 


PLFrKINO    A    r.OORE  575 

had  the  sHghtest  intention  of  passing  me  by ;  so  we  became  frieuds, 
and  his  mouth  was  stopped. 

He  was  very  tliick  with  the  widow,  but  that  lady  had  a  very 
capacious  heart,  and  there  were  a  nuinl)er  of  other  gentlemen  who 
seemed  equally  smitten  with  her.  "Look  at  that  Mrs.  Manasseh," 
said  a  gentleman  (it  was  droll,  he  was  a  Jew,  too)  sitting  at  dinner 
by  me.  "  Slie  is  old,  ugly,  and  yet,  because  she  has  money,  all  the 
men  are  flinging  themselves  at  her." 
"  She  has  money,  has  she  ? " 

"Eighty  thousand  pounds,  and  twenty  thousand  for  each  of  her 
children.     I  know  it  for  a  fact"  said  the  strange  gentleman.      "  I 
am  in  the  law,  and  we  of  our  faith,  you  know,  know  pretty  well 
what  the  great  families  amongst  us  are  worth." 
"  Who  was  Mr.  Manasseh  1 "  said  I. 

"  A  man  of  enormous  Avealth  —  a  tobacco-merchant — West  Indies; 
a  fellow  of  no  birth,  however  ;  and  who,  between  ourselves,  married  a 
woman  that  is  not  much  better  than  she  should  be.  ]\Iy  dear  sir,"' 
whispered  he,  "she  is  always  in  ]i>ve.  Now  it  is  with  that  Captain 
Dobble ;  last  week  it  was  somebody  else — and  it  may  be  you  next 
week,  if — ha !  ha !  ha ! — you  are  disposed  to  enter  the  lists.  I 
wouldn't,  for  my  part,  have  the  woman  ^^^th  twice  her  money." 

What  did  it  matter  to  me  whether  the  woman  was  good  or  not, 
provided  she  was  rich  ?  My  course  was  quite  clear.  I  told  Dolible 
all  that  this  gentleman  liad  informeil  me,  and  being  a  pretty  i;ood 
hand  at  making  a  story,  I  made  the  widow  apjiear  ,w  liad,  that  the 
poor  fellow  was  quite  frightened,  and  fairly  quitted  the  Held.  Ha  I 
ha !  I'm  dashed  if  I  did  not  make  him  believe  that  Mrs.  ]\Ianassch 
had  77iurdered  her  last  husband. 

I  played  my  game  so  well,  thanks  to  the  information  that  my 
friend  the  lawyer  had  given  me,  that  in  a  month  I  liad  got  tlie 
widow  to  show  a  most  decided  i^artiality  for  me.  I  sat  by  her  at 
dinner,  I  drank  with  her  at  the  "  Wells  "—I  rode  with  her,  I  danced 
with  her,  and  at  a  picnic  to  Kenilworth,  where  we  drank  a  good  deal 
of  champagne,  I  actually  pojiped  the  question,  and  was  accepted. 
In  another  month,  Robert  Stubbs,  Esquire,  led  to  the  altar,  Leah, 
widow  of  the  late  Z.  Manasseh,  Esquire,  of  St.  Kitt's  ! 

•  •••■* 

We  drove  up  to  London  in  her  comfortable  chariot :  the  children 
and  servants  following  in  a  postchaise.  I  paid,  of  course,  for  every- 
thing ;  and  until  our  house  in  Berkeley  Square  was.  painted,  we 
stopped  at  "  Stevens's  Hotel." 

■  •  ■  *  * 

My  own  estate  had  been  sold,  and  the  money  was  lying  at  a 
bank  in  the  City.     About  three  days  after  our  arrival,  as  we  took 
19 


576  THE    FATAL    BOOTS 

our  breakfast  in  the  hotel,  previous  to  a  visit  to  Mrs.  Stubbs's 
banker,  where  certain  little  transfers  were  to  be  made,  a  gentleman 
was  introduced,  who,  I  saw  at  a  glance,  was  of  my  wife's  persuasion. 

He  looked  at  Mrs.  Stubbs,  and  made  a  bow.  "  Perhaps  it  will 
be  convenient  to  you  to  pay  this  little  bill,  one  hundred  and  fifty- 
two  pounds ] " 

"  My  love,"  says  she,  "  will  you  pay  this  ? — it  is  a  trifle  which  I 
had  really  forgotten." 

"  My  soul ! "  said  I,  "  I  have  really  not  the  money  in  the 
house." 

"  Veil,  (lenn,  Captain  Shtubbsh,"  says  he,  "  I  must  do  my  duty 
— and  arrest  you — here  is  the  writ!  Tom,  keep  the  door  !  "—My 
wife  fainted — the  children  screamed,  and  fancy  my  condition  as  I 
was  obliged  to  march  off"  to  a  spunging-house  along  with  a  horrid 
sheriffs  officer ! 


OCTOBER— MARS   AND    VENUS    IN   OPPOSITION 

I  SHALL  not  describe  my  feelings  when  I  found  myself  in  a  cage 
in  Cursitor  Street,  instead  of  tliat  fine  house  in  Berkeley  Square, 
which  was  to  have  been  mine  as  the  husband  of  Mrs.  Mauasseh. 
What  a  place  ! — in  an  odious  dismal  street  leading  from  Chancery 
Lane.  A  hideous  Jew  boy  opened  the  second  of  three  doors,  and 
shut  it  when  Mr.  Nabb  and  I  (almost  fainting)  had  entered ;  then 
he  opened  the  third  door,  and  then  I  was  introduced  to  a  filtliy 
place  called  a  coffee-room,  which  I  exchanged  for  the  solitary  comfort 
of  a  little  dingy  back-parlour,  where  I  was  left  for  a  while  to 
brood  over  my  miserable  fate.  Fancy  the  change  between  this  and 
Berkeley  Square !  Was  I,  after  all  my  pains,  and  cleverness,  and 
perseverance,  cheated  at  last  ?  Had  this  Mrs.  Manasseh  been  im- 
posing upon  me,  and  were  the  words  of  the  wretch  I  met  at  the 
table-d'hote  at  Leamington  only  meant  to  mislead  me  and  take  ma 
in  1  I  determined  to  send  for  my  wife,  and  know  the  whole  truth. 
I  saw  at  once  that  I  had  been  the  victim  of  an  infernal  plot,  ami 
that  the  carriage,  the  house  in  town,  the  West  India  fortune,  wer(! 
only  so  many  lies  Avhich  I  had  blindly  beheved.  It  was  true  the 
debt  was  but  a  hundred  and  fifty  pounds ;  and  I  had  two  thousand 
at  my  bankers'.  But  was  the  loss  of  her  eighty  thousand  pounds 
nothing*?  Was  the  destruction  of  my  hopes  nothing?  The  accursed 
addition  to  my  family  of  a  Jewish  wife  and  three  Jewish  children, 
nothing  1  And  all  these  I  was  to  support  out  of  my  two  thdusanw" 
pounds.  I  had  better  have  stopped  at  home  with  my  mamma 
and  sisters,  whom  I  really  did  love,  and  who  produced  me  eighty 
pounds  a  year. 

I  had  a  furious  interview  with  Mrs.  Stubbs  ;  and  when  I  charged 
her,  the  base  wretch  !  with  cheating  me,  like  a  brazen  serpent  as 
she  was,  she  flung  back  the  cheat  in  my  teeth,  and  swon-  I  liad 
swindled  her.  Why  did  I  marry  her,  when  she  might  liavc  liad 
twenty  others  %  She  only  took  me,  she  said,  because  I  had  twenty 
thousand  pounds.  I  had  said  I  possessed  that  sum :  but  in  love, 
you  know,  and  war  all's  fair. 

We  parted  quite  as  angrily  as  we  met ;  and  I  cordially  vowed 
that  when  I  had  paid  the  debt  into  which  I  had  been  swindled  by 


578  THE    FATAL    B00T8  , 

her,  I  would  take  my  two  thousand  pounds  and  depart  to  some 
desert  island ;  or,  at  the  very  least,  to  America,  and  never  see  her 
more,  or  any  of  her  Israclitish  brood.  There  was  no  use  in  remain- 
ing in  the  spunging-house  (for  I  knew  that  there  were  such  things 
as  detainers,  and  that  ■\\'here  Mrs.  Stubbs  owed  a  hundred  pounds, 
she  might  owe  a  thousand) :  so  I  sent  for  Mr.  Nabb,  and  tendering 
him  a  cheque  for  one  hundred  and  fifty  pounds  and  his  costs, 
requested  to  be  let  out  forthwith.  "  Here,  fellow,"  said  I,  "  is  a 
cheque  on  Child's  for  your  paltry  sum." 

"  It  may  be  a  sheck  on  Shild's,"  says  Mr.  Nabb ;  "  but  I  should 
be  a  baby  to  let  you  out  on  such  a  paper  as  dat." 

•'  Well,"  said  I,  "  Child's  is  but  a  step  from  this  :  you  may  go 
and  get  the  cash, — just  give  me  an  acknowledgment." 

Nabb  drew  out  the  acknowledgment  with  great  punctuality, 
and  set  off  for  the  bankers',  whilst  I  prepared  myself  for  departure 
from  this  abominable  prison. 

He  smiled  as  he  came  in.  "  Well,"  said  I,  "  you  have  touched 
your  money ;  and  now,  I  must  tell  you,  that  you  are  the  most 
infernal  rogue  and  extortioner  I  ever  met  with." 

"  Oh  no,  Mishter  Shtubbsh,"  says  he,  grinning  still.  "  Dere  is 
som  greater  roag  dan  me, — mosh  greater." 

"  Fellow,"  said  I,  "  don't  stand  grinning  before  a  gentleman ; 
but  give  me  my  hat  and  cloak,  and  let  me  leave  your  filthy  den." 

"  Shtop,  Shtubbsh,"  says  he,  not  even  Mistering  me  this  time. 
"  Here  ish  a  letter,  vich  you  had  better  read." 

I  opened  the  letter ;  something  fell  to  the  ground, — it  was  my 
cheque. 

The  letter  ran  thus  : — 

"  Messrs.  Child  &  Co.  present  their  compliments  to  Captain 
Stubbs,  and  regret  that  they  have  been  obliged  to  refuse  payment 
of  the  enclosed,  having  been  served  this  day  with  an  attachment  by 
Messrs.  Solomonson  &  Co.,  which  compels  them  to  retain  Captain 
Stubbs's  balance  of  £2,010,  lis.  6d.  until  the  decision  of  the  suit  of 
Solomonson  v.  Stubbs. 

"Fleet  Street." 

"  You  see,"  says  Mr.  Nabb,  as  I  read  this  dreadful  letter — "  you 
see,  Shtubbsh,  dere  vas  two  debts, — a  little  von  and  a  big  von.  So 
dey  arrested  you  for  de  little  von,  and  attashed  your  money  for  de 
big  von." 

Don't  laugh  at  me  for  telling  this  story.  If  you  knew  what 
tears  are  blotting  over  the  paper  as  I  write  it — if  you  knew  that  for 
weeks  after  I  was  more  like  a  madman  than  a  sane  man, — a  mad- 


o 
o 

D3 
50 


'Ji 

o 

-1 

M 
2! 

a 

CO 


o 

O 


o 

2! 


MARS    AND    VENUS    IN    OPPOSITION        579 

man  in  the  Fleet  Prison,  where  I  went  instead  of  to  the  desert 
island  !  What  had  I  done  to  deserve  it  ?  Hadn't  I  always  kept  an 
eye  to  the  main  chance  1  Hadn't  I  lived  economically,  and  not  like 
other  young  men  1  Had  I  ever  been  known  to  squander  or  give 
away  a  single  penny  ?  No  !  I  can  lay  my  hand  on  my  heart,  and, 
thank  Heaven,  say,  No  !     Why,  why  was  I  punished  so  ? 

Let  me  conclude  this  miserable  history.  Seven  months — my 
wife  saw  me  once  or  twic«,  and  then  drojiped  me  altogetlier — I 
remained  in  that  fatal  place.  I  wrote  to  my  dear  mamma,  begging 
her  to  sell  her  furniture,  but  got  no  answer.  All  my  old  friends 
tiu'ned  their  backs  upon  mo.  My  action  went  against  me — I  had 
not  a  penny  to  defend  it.  Solomonson  proved  my  wife's  debt,  and 
seized  my  two  thousand  pounds.  As  for  the  detainer  against  me, 
I  was  obliged  to  go  through  the  court  for  the  relief  of  insolvent 
debtors.  I  passed  through  it,  and  came  out  a  beggar.  But  fancy 
the  malice  of  tluxt  wicked  Stitfelkind  :  he  appeared  in  coiu't  as  my 
creditor  for  three  pounds,  with  sixteen  years'  interest  at  five  iier 
cent.,  for  a  pair  of  top-boots.  The  old  tluef  produced  them  in 
court,  and  told  the  whole  story — Lord  Cornwallis,  the  detection,  the 
pumping  and  all. 

Conunissioner  Dubobwig  was  very  funny  about  it.  "  So  Doctor 
Swishtail  would  not  pay  you  for  the  boots,  eh,  Mr.  Stiffelkind  'I " 

"  No :  he  said,  ven  I  asked  him  for  payment,  dey  was  ordered 
by  a  yong  boy,  and  I  ought  to  have  gone  to  his  schoolmaster." 

"  What !  then  you  came  on  a  bootless  errand,  hey,  sir  1 "  (A 
laugh.) 

"  Bootless  !  no  sare,  I  brought  de  boots  back  vid  me.  How  de 
devil  else  could  I  show  dem  to  you"?"     (Another  laugh.) 

"  You've  never  soled  'em  since,  Mr.  Tickleshins  ? " 

"  I  never  would  sell  dem ;  I  svore  I  never  vood,  on  porpus  to 
be  revenged  on  dat  Stobbs." 

"  What !  your  wound  has  never  been  healed,  eh  ? " 

"Vat  de  you  mean  vid  your  bootless  errands,  and  your  soling 
and  healing  1  I  tell  you  I  have  done  vat  I  svore  to  do :  I  liave 
exposed  him  at  school ;  I  have  broak  ofl"  a  marriage  for  him,  ven  he 
vould  have  had  tventy  tousand  pound ;  and  now  I  have  showed  him 
up  hi  a  court  of  justice.  Dat  is  vat  I  'ave  done,  and  dat's  enough." 
And  then  the  old  wi-etch  went  down,  whilst  everybody  was  giggling 
and  staring  at  poor  me — as  if  I  was  not  miserable  enough  already. 

"  This  seems  the  dearest  pair  of  boots  you  ever  had  in  your  life, 
Mr.  Stubbs,"  said  Commissioner  Dubobwig  very  archly,  and  then  he 
began  to  inquire  about  the  rest  of  my  misfortunes. 

In  the  fulness  of  my  heart  I  told  him  the  whole  of  them  :  how 
Mr.  Solomonson  the  attorney  had  introduced  me  to  the  rich  widow, 


580  THE    FATAL    BOOTS 

Mrs.  Manasseh,  wlio  had  fifty  thousand  pounds,  and  an  estate  m 
the  West  Indies.  How  I  was  married,  and  arrested  on  coming  to 
town,  and  cast  in  an  action  for  two  thousand  pounds  brought  against 
me  by  this  very  Solomouson  for  my  wife's  debts. 

"  Stop  !  "  says  a  lawyer  in  the  court.  "Is  tliis  woman  a  showy 
black-liaired  woman  with  one  eye?  very  often  drunk,  with  three 
childi'cn  1 — Solomonson,  short,  with  red  hair  1 " 

"  Exactly  so,"  said  I,  with  tears  in  my  eyes. 

"  That  woman  has  married  three  men  within  the  last  two  years. 
One  in  Ireland,  and  one  at  Bath.  A  Solomonson  is,  I  believe,  her 
husband,  and  they  both  are  oft'  for  America  ten  days  ago." 

"  But  why  did  you  not  keep  your  two  thousand  pounds?"  said 
the  lawyer. 

"  Sir,  they  attached  it." 

"  Oh,  well,  we  may  pass  you.  You  have  been  unlucky,  Mr. 
Stubbs,  but  it  seems  as  if  the  biter  had  been  bit  in  this  affair." 

"  No,"  said  Mr,  Dubobwig.      "  Mr.  Btubbs  is  the  victim  of  a 

FATAL   ATTACHMENT." 


NOVEMBER— A    GENERAL   POST  DELIVERY 

1WAS  a  fi-ee  man  when  I  went  out  of  the  court ;  but  I  was  a 
beggar — I,  Cai)tain  Stubljs,  of  the  bold  North  Bungays,  did  not 
know  where  I  (H)uld  get  a,  bed,  or  a  dinner. 

As  I  was  marcliing  sadly  down  Portugal  Street,  I  felt  a  hand 
on  my  shoulder  and  a  rough  voice  which  I  knew  well. 

"  Veil,  Mr.  Stol)bs,  have  I  not  kept  my  promise  1  I  told  you 
dem  boots  would  l)e  your  ruin." 

I  was  much  too  nuserable  to  reply ;  and  only  cast  my  eyes 
towards  the  roofs  of  the  houses,  which  I  could  not  see  for  the 
tears. 

"  Vat !  you  begin  to  gry  and  blobber  like  a  shild  ?  you  vood 
marry,  vood  you  1  and  noting  vood  do  for  you  but  a  vife  vid  monny — 
ha,  ha — bixt  you  vere  de  pigeon,  and  she  was  de  grow.  She  has 
plocked  you,  too,  pretty  veil — eh  1  ha  !  ha  !  " 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Stiffelkind,"  said  I,  "  don't  laugh  at  my  misery  :  she 
has  not  left  me  a  single  shilling  under  heaven.  And  I  shall  starve  : 
I  do  believe  I  shall  starve."  And  I  began  to  cry  fit  to  break  my 
heart. 

"Starf!  stoff  and  nonsense!  You  vill  never  die  of  starfing — 
you  vill  die  of  hanging,  I  tink — ho  !  ho  ! — and  it  is  nioch  easier 
vay  too."  I  didn't  say  a  word,  but  cried  on;  till  everybody  in  the 
street  turned  round  and  stared. 

"  Come,  come,"  said  Stiffelkind,  "  do  not  gry,  Gaptain  Stobbs — 
it  is  not  goot  for  a  Gaptain  to  gry— ha  !  h;T  !  Dere — -come  vid  me, 
and  you  shall  have  a  dinner,  and  a  bregfast  too, — vich  shall  gost 
you  nothing,  until  you  can  bay  vid  your  earnings." 

And  so  this  curious  old  man,  who  had  persecuted  me  all  through 
my  prosperity,  grew  compassionate  towards  me  in  my  ill-luck ;  and 
took  me  home  with  him  as  he  promised.  "  I  saw  your  name  among 
de  Insolvents,  and  I  vowed,  you  know,  to  make  you  repent  dem 
boots.  Dere  now,  it  is  done,  and  forgotten,  look  you.  Here, 
Betty,  Bettchen,  make  de  spare  bed,  and  put  a  clean  knife  and 
fork ;  Lort  Cornvallis  is  come  to  dine  vid  me." 

I  lived  with  tliis  strange  old  man  for  six  weeks.  I  kept  his 
books,  and  did  what  little  I  could  to  make  myself  useful :  carrying 


582  THE    FATAL    BOOTS 

about  boots  and  shoes,  as  if  I  had  never  borne  His  Majesty's  com- 
mission. He  gave  me  no  money,  but  he  fed  and  lodged  me  com- 
fortably. The  men  and  boys  used  to  laugh  and  call  me  General, 
and  Lord  Cornwallis,  and  all  sorts  of  nicknames ;  and  old  StiflFel- 
kind  made  a  thousand  new  ones  for  me. 

One  day  I  can  recollect — one  miserable  day,  as  I  was  polishing 
on  the  trees  a  pair  of  boots  of  Mr.  Stiffelkind's  manufacture — the 
old  gentleman  came  into  the  shop,  with  a  lady  on  his  arm. 

"  Vere  is  Gaptain  Stobbs  ? "  said  he.  "  Vera  is  dat  ornament  to 
His  Majesty's  service  1 " 

I  came  in  from  the  back  shop,  where  I  was  polishing  the  boots, 
with  one  of  them  in  my  hand. 

"  Look,  my  dear,"  says  he,  "  here  is  an  old  friend  of  yours,  his 
Excellency  Lort  Cornvallis ! — Who  would  have  thought  such  a 
nobleman  vood  turn  shoeblack  1  Gajitain  Stobbs,  here  is  your 
former  flame,  my  dear  niece,  Miss  Grotty.  How  coidd  you, 
Magdalen,  ever  leaf  such  a  lof  of  a  man?  Shake  hands  vid  her, 
Gaptain  ; — dere,  never  mind  de  l>lacking ! "     But  INIiss  drew  back. 

"I  never  shake  hands  with  a  shoeblack"  said  she,  mighty  con- 
temptuous. 

"  Bah  !  my  lof,  his  fingers  von't  soil  you.  Don't  you  know  he 
has  just  been  vitevashed  .? " 

"  I  wish,  uncle,"  says  she,  "  you  would  not  leave  me  with  such 
low  peojile." 

"Low,  because  he  cleans  boots]  De  Gaptain  prefers 7>?<;h/>s  to 
boots,  I  tink     lia  !  ha  !  " 

"  Captain  indeed  ;  a  nice  Captain,"  says  Miss  Crutty,  snapping 
her  fingers  in  my  face,  and  walking  away  :  "a  Captain  who  has  had 
liis  nose  pulled  !  ha  !  ha  !  "  —  And  how  could  I  help  it?  it  wasn't  by 
my  own  choice  that  that  ruffian  Waters  took  such  lil)erties  with  me. 
Didn't  I  show  how  averse  I  was  to  all  ipiarrels  by  refusing  altogether 
his  challenge  ? — But  such  is  the  world.  And  thus  the  people  at 
Stiffelkind's  used  to  tease  me,  until  they  drove  me  almost  mad. 

At  last  he  came  home  one  day  more  merry  and  abusive  than 
ever.  "  G:ii)tain,"  says  he,  "  I  have  goot  news  for  you — a  goot 
jilace.  Your  Lordship  vill  not  be  able  to  geep  your  garridgc,  but 
you  vill  be  gomfortable,  and  serve  His  Majesty." 

"  Serve  His  Majesty  ] "  says  I.  "  Dearest  Mr.  Stift'elkind,  have 
you  got  me  a  place  under  Government  ? " 

"  Yes,  and  somting  better  still — not  only  a  place,  but  a  uniform  : 
yes,  Gaptain  Stobbs,  a  red  goat." 

"  A  red  coat !  I  hope  you  don't  think  I  would  demean  myself 
by  entering  the  ranks  of  the  army  ?  I  am  a  gentleman,  Mr. 
Stift'elkind  —  I  can  never — no,  I  never  ' 


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A    GENERAL    POST    DELIVERY  583 

"  No,  I  know  you  will  never — you  are  too  great  a  go  ward — ha  ! 
ha ! — though  dis  is  a  red  coat,  and  a  place  where  you  must  give 
some  hard  knocks  too— ha  !  ha  ! — do  you  gomprehend  1 — and  you 
shall  be  a  general  instead  of  a  gaptain — ha  !  ha  !  " 

"A  general  in  a  red  coat,  Mr.  Stiftolkind ] " 

"Yes,  a  Genehal  Bostman  ! — lia  !  ha  !  I  have  been  vid  your 
old  friend.  Bunting,  and  he  has  an  uncle  in  the  Post-Office,  and  he 
has  got  you  de  place — eighteen  shillings  a  veek,  you  rogue,  and 
your  goat.     You  nuist  not  oben  any  of  de  letters,  you  know." 

And  so  it  was — I,  Robert  Stubbs,  Esquire,  became  the  vile 
thing  he  named — a  general  postman  ! 

I  was  so  disgusted  with  Stiffelkiud's  brutal  jokes,  which  were 
now  more  brutal  than  ever,  that  when  I  got  my  place  in  the  Post- 
Office,  I  never  went  near  the  fellow  again ;  for  though  he  had  done 
me  a  favoiu"  in  keeping  me  from  starvation,  he  certainly  had  done  it 
in  a  very  rude  disagreeable  manner,  and  showed  a  low  and  mean 
spirit  in  shoving  me  into  such  a  degraded  place  as  that  of  postman. 
But  what  had  I  to  do?  I  submitted  to  fate,  and  for  three  years 
or  more,  Robert  Stubbs,  of  the  North  Bungay  Fencibles,  was 

I  wonder  nobody  recognised  me.  I  lived  in  daily  fear  the  first 
year  :  but  afterwards  grew  accustomed  to  my  situation,  as  all  great 
men  will  do,  and  wore  my  red  coat  as  naturally  as  if  I  had  been 
sent  into  the  world  only  for  the  purpose  of  being  a  letter-carrier. 

I  was  first  in  the  Whitechapel  district,  where  I  stayed  for  neai'ly 
three  years,  when  I  was  transferred  to  Jermyn  Street  and  Duke 
Street — famous  places  for  lodgings.  I  suppose  I  left  a  hundred 
letters  at  a  house  in  the  latter  street,  where  lived  some  people  who 
must  have  recognised  me  had  they  but  once  chanced  to  look  at  me. 

You  see  that,  when  I  left  Sloffemsijuiggle,  and  set  out  in  the 
gay  world,  my  mamma  had  written  to  me  a  dozen  times  at  least ; 
but  I  never  answered  her,  for  I  knew  she  wanted  money,  and  I 
detest  writing.  Well,  she  stopped  her  letters,  finding  she  could 
get  none  from  me  : — but  when  I  was  in  the  Fleet,  as  I  told  you,  I 
wrote  repeatedly  to  my  dear  mamma,  and  was  not  a  little  nettled  at 
her  refusing  to  notice  me  in  my  distress,  which  is  the  very  time  one 
most  wants  notice. 

Stul)bs  is  not  an  uncommon  name  ;  and  though  I  saw  Mrs. 
Stubbs  on  a  little  bright  brass  plate  in  Duke  Street,  and  delivered 
so  many  letters  to  the  lodgers  in  her  house,  I  never  thought  of 
asking  who  she  was,  or  whether  she  was  my  relation  or  not. 

One  day  the  young  woman  who  took  in  the  letters  had  not  got 
change,  and  she  called  her  mistrciss.  An  old  lady  in  a  poke-boiuiet 
came  out  of  the  parlour,  and   jnit  on  her  spectacles,  and  looked  at 


584  THE    FATAL    BOOTS 

the  letter,  and  fumbled  in  her  pocket  for  eight}  )ence,  and  apologised 
to  the  postman  for  keeping  him  waiting.  And  when  I  said,  "  Never 
mind,  ma'am,  it's  no  trouble,"  the  old  lady  gave  a  start,  and  then 
she  pulled  off  her  spectacles,  and  staggered  back;  and  then  she 
began  muttering,  as  if  about  to  choke ;  and  then  she  gave  a  great 
screech,  and  flung  herself  into  my  arms,  and  roared  out,  "  My  son, 

MY  SON  !  " 

"  Law,  mamma,"  said  I,  "is  that  joni"  and  I  sat  down  on  the 
hall  liench  with  her,  and  let  her  kiss  me  as  much  as  ever  she  liked. 
Hearing  the  winning  and  crying,  down  comes  another  lady  from 
nijstairs, — it  was  my  sister  Eliza;  and  down  come  the  lodgers. 
And  the  maid  gets  water  and  what  not,  and  I  was  the  regular  hero 
of  the  group.  I  could  not  stay  long  then,  having  my  letters  to 
dehver.  But,  in  the  evening,  after  mail-time,  I  went  back  to  my 
mamma  and  sister;  and,  over  a  bottle  of  prime  old  port,  and  a 
precious  good  leg  of  boiled  mutton  and  turnips,  made  myself  pretty 
comfortable,  I  can  tell  you. 


DECEMBER— '^  THE  WINTER  OF  OUR  DISCONTENT" 

MAMMA  had  kept  the  house  in  Duke  Street  for  more  than  two 
years.  I  recollected  some  of  the  chairs  and  tables  from  dear 
old  Sloft'emsquiKglo,  and  the  bowl  in  which  I  had  made  that 
famous  ruin-])unfh,  the  evening  she  went  away,  which  she  and  my 
sisters  left  untoui'hed,  and  I  was  obliged  to  drink  after  they  were 
gone ;  but  that's  not  to  the  purpose. 

Think  of  my  sister  Lucy's  luck  !  that  chap,  Waters,  fell  in  love 
with  her,  and  married  her;  and  she  now  keeps  her  carriage,  and  lives 
in  state  near  Slottemsquiggle.  I  offered  to  make  it  up  with  Waters ; 
but  he  bears  malice,  and  never  will  see  or  speak  to  me. — He  had 
the  impudence,  too,  to  say,  that  he  took  in  all  letters  for  mamma  at 
Sloffemsquiggle  ;  and  that  as  mine  were  all  begging-letters,  he  burned 
them,  and  never  said  a  word  to  her  concerning  them.  He  allowed 
mamma  fifty  pounds  a  year,  and,  if  she  were  not  such  a  fool,  slie 
might  have  had  three  times  as  much ;  but  the  old  lady  was  higli 
and  mighty  forsooth,  and  would  not  be  beholden,  even  to  her  own 
daughter,  for  more  than  she  actually  wanted.  Even  this  fifty  pound 
she  was  going  to  refuse ;  but  when  I  came  to  live  with  her,  of  course 
I  wanted  pocket-money  as  well  as  board  and  lodging,  and  so  I  had 
the  fifty  pounds  for  my  share,  and  eked  out  with  it  as  well  as  I 
could. 

Old  Bates  and  the  Captain,  between  them,  gave  mamma  a 
hundred  jwunds  when  she  left  me  (she  had  the  deuce's  own  luck,  to 
be  sure — much  more  than  ever  fell  to  me,  I  know) ;  and  as  she  said 
she  would  try  and  work  for  her  living,  it  was  thought  best  to  take 
a  house  and  let  lodgings,  which  she  did.  Our  first  and  second  fioor 
paid  us  four  guineas  a  week  on  an  average  ;  and  the  front  parlour 
and  attic  made  forty  pounds  more.  Mamma  and  Eliza  used  to  have 
the  front  attic ;  but  /  took  that,  and  they  slept  in  the  servants'  bed- 
room. Lizzy  had  a  pretty  genius  for  work,  and  earned  a  guinea  a 
week  that  way ;  so  that  we  had  got  nearly  two  hundred  a  year  over 
the  rent  to  keep  house  with, — and  we  got  on  pretty  well.  Besides, 
women  eat  nothing:  my  women  didn't  care  for  meat  for  days  togetlier 
sometimes, — so  that  it  was  only  necessary  to  dress  a  good  steak  or 
so  for  me. 


586  THE    FATAL    BOOTS 

Mamma  would  not  think  of  my  continuing  in  the  Post-Office. 
She  said  her  dear  Robert,  her  husband's  son,  her  gallant  soldier,  and 
all  that,  should  remain  at  home  and  be  a  gentleman — which  I  was, 
certainly,  though  I  didn't  find  fifty  pounds  a  year  very  much  to  buy 
clothes  and  be  a  gentleman  upon.  To  be  sure,  mother  found  me 
shirts  and  linen,  so  that  that  wasn't  in  the  fifty  pounds.  She  kicked 
a  little  at  leaving  the  washing  too ;  but  she  gave  in  at  last,  for  I 
was  her  dear  Bob,  you  know ;  and  I'm  blest  if  I  could  not  make  her 
give  me  the  gown  off  her  back.  Fancy  !  once  she  cut  up  a  very  nice 
rich  black  silk  scarf,  which  my  sister  Waters  sent  her,  and  made 
me  a  waistcoat  and  two  stocks  of  it.  She  was  so  very  soft,  the 
old  lady  ! 

I'd  lived  in  tliis  way  for  five  years  or  more,  making  myself 
content  with  my  fifty  pounds  a  year  [perhajis  I'd  saved  a  little  out 
of  it ;  but  that's  neither  here  nor  there).  From  year's  end  to  year's 
end  I  remained  faithful  to  my  dear  mamma,  never  leaving  her  except 
for  a  month  or  so  in  the  sununer — when  a  bachelor  may  take  a  trip 
to  Gravesend  or  JNIargate,  wliich  would  be  too  expensive  for  a  family. 
I  say  a  bachelor,  for  the  fact  is,  I  don't  know  whether  I  am  married 
or  not— never  having  heard  a  word  since  of  the  scoundrelly  Mi-s. 
Stubbs. 

I  never  went  to  the  public-house  before  meals :  for,  with  my 
beggarly  fifty  pounds,  I  could  not  afford  to  dine  away  from  home : 
but  there  I  had  my  regular  seat,  and  used  to  come  home  jiretty 
glorious,  I  can  tell  you.  Then  bed  till  eleven;  then  breakfast  and 
the  newspaper ;  then  a  stroll  in  Hyde  Park  or  St.  James's ;  then 
home  at  half-past  tliree  to  dinner — when  I  jollied,  as  I  call  it,  for 
the  rest  of  the  day.  I  was  my  mother's  delight ;  and  thus,  with  a 
clear  conscience,  I  managed  to  live  oji. 

How  fond  she  was  of  me,  to  be  sure !  Being  sociable  myself 
and  loving  to  have  my  friends  about  me,  we  often  used  to  assemble 
a  company  of  as  hearty  fellows  as  you  would  wish  to  sit  down  with, 
and  keep  the  nights  \\\)  royall}\  "  Never  mind,  my  boys,"  I  used 
to  say,  "send  the  bottle  round  :  mammy  pays  for  all."  As  she  did, 
sure  enough  :  and  sure  enough  we  punished  her  cellar  too.  The 
good  old  lady  used  to  wait  upon  us,  as  if  for  all  the  world  she  had 
been  my  servant,  instead  of  a  lady  and  my  manuua.  Never  used  she 
to  repine,  though  I  often,  as  I  must  confess,  gave  her  occasion  (keep- 
ing her  up  till  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  because  she  never  could 
sleep  until  she  saw  her  "  dear  Bob  "  in  bed,  and  leading  her  a  sad 
anxious  life).     She  was  of  such  a  sweet  temper,  tlie  old  lady,  that 


a 

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"THE  WINTER    OF   OUR    DISCONTENT"     587 

I  thiuk  in  the  course  of  five  years  I  never  knew  her  in  a  passion, 
except  twice  :  and  then  with  sister  Lizzy,  who  declared  I  was  ruining 
the  house,  and  (h'iving  the  lodgers  away,  one  by  one.  But  nianinia 
would  not  hear  of  such  envious  spite  on  my  sister's  part.  "  Her 
Bob "  was  always  right,  she  said.  At  last  Lizzy  fairly  rcti-eated, 
and  went  to  the  Waters's. — I  was  glad  of  it,  for  her  teni])er  was 
dreadful,  and  we  used  to  be  squabbling  from  morning  till  night ! 

Ah,  those  were  jolly  times  !  but  ma  was  obliged  to  give  up  the 
lodging-house  at  last — for,  somehow,  things  went  wrong  after  my 
sister's  departure — the  nasty  uncharitable  people  said,  on  account 
of  me  ;.  because  I  drove  away  the  lodgers  by  smoking  and  drinking, 
and  kicking  uj)  noises  in  the  Imusc  ;  and  because  ma  gave  me  so 
much  of  her  money  : — so  she  did,  but  if  she  tvould  give  it,  you  know, 
how  could  I  help  it  1     Heigho  !  I  wish  I'd  hept  it. 

No  such  luck.  Tlie  business  I  thought  was  to  last  for  ever  ; 
but  at  the  end  of  two  years  came  a  smash — shut  up  shop — sell  off 
everything.  Mamma  went  to  the  Waters's :  and,  will  you  believe 
it  1  the  ungrateful  wretches  would  not  receive  me !  that  Mary,  you 
see,  was  so  disappointed  at  not  marrying  me. 

Twenty  pounds  a  year  they  allow,  it  is  true ;  but  what's  that 
for  a  gentleman  1  For  twenty  years  I  have  been  struggling  manfully 
to  gain  an  honest  livelihood,  and,  in  the  course  of  them,  have  seen  a 
deal  of  life,  to  be  sure.  I've  sold  cigars  and  pocket-handkerchiefs  at 
the  corners  of  streets ;  I've  been  a  billiard-marker ;  I've  been  a 
director  (in  the  panic  year)  of  the  Imperial  British  Consolidated 
Mangle  and  Drying  Ground  Company.  I've  been  on  the  stage  (for 
two  years  as  an  actor,  and  about  a  month  as  a  cad,  when  I  was  very 
low) ;  I've  been  the  means  of  giving  to  the  police  of  this  empire 
some  very  valuable  information  (about  licensed  victuallers,  gentle- 
men's carts,  and  pawnbrokers'  names) ;  I've  been  very  nearly  an 
officer  again — that  is,  an  assistant  to  an  officer  of  the  Sherift'  of 
Middlesex  :  it  was  my  last  place. 

On  the  last  day  of  the  year  1837,  even  that  game  was  up.  It's 
a  thing  that  very  seldom  happened  to  a  gentleman,  to  be  kicked  out 
of  a  spunging-house ;  but  such  was  my  case.  Young  Nabb  (who 
succeeded  Ins  father)  drove  me  ignominiously  from  his  door,  because 
I  had  charged  a  gentleman  in  the  coffee-room  seven-and-sixpence  for 
a  glass  of  ale  and  bread  and  cheese,  the  charge  of  the  house  being 
only  six  shillings.  He  had  the  meanness  to  deduct  the  eighteen- 
pence  from  my  wages,  and  because  I  blustered  a  bit,  he  took  me  by 
the  shoulders  and  turned  me  out — me,  a  gentleman,  and,  what  is 
more,  a  poor  orphan  ! 

How  I  did  rage  and  swear  at  him  when  I  got  out  into  the  street ! 
There  stood  he,  the  hideous  Jew  monster,  at  the  double  door,  writh- 


588  THE    FATAL    BOOTS 

iiig  under  the  effect  of  my  language.  I  had  my  revenge  !  Heads 
were  thrust  out  of  every  bar  of  his  windows,  laugliing  at  him.  A 
crowd  gathered  round  me,  as  I  stood  pounding  him  with  my  satire, 
and  they  evidently  enjoyed  his  discomfiture.  I  think  the  mob  would 
have  pelted  the  ruffian  to  death  (one  or  two  of  their  missiles  hit  me, 
I  can  tell  you),  when  a  policeman  came  up,  and  in  reply  to  a  gentle- 
man, who  was  asking  what  was  the  disturbance,  said,  "  Bless  you, 
sir,  it's  Lord  Cornwallis."  "Move  on,  Boots"  said  the  fellow  to 
me ;  for  the  fact  is,  my  misfortunes  and  early  life  are  pretty  well 
known — and  so  the  crowd  dispersed. 

"  What  could  have  made  that  policeman  call  you  Lord  Cornwallis 
and  Boots?"  .said  the  gentleman,  who  seemed  mightily  amused,  and 
had  followed  me.  "Sir,"  says  I,  "I  am  an  unfortunate  officer  of 
the  North  Bungay  Fencibles,  and  I'll  tell  you  willingly  for  a  pint 
of  beer. "  He  told  me  to  follow  him  to  his  chambers  in  the  Temple, 
which  I  did  (a  five-pair  back),  and  there,  sure  enough,  I  had  the 
beer ;  and  told  him  this  very  story  you've  been  reading.  You  see 
he  is  what  is  called  a  literary  man^and  sold  my  adventures  for  me 
to  the  booksellers  :  he's  a  strange  chap ;  and  says  they're  moral. 

I'm  blest  if  /  can  see  anything  moral  in  them.  I'm  sure  I 
ought  to  have  been  more  lucky  through  life,  being  so  very  wide 
awake.  And  yet  here  I  am,  without  a  pliu;e,  or  even  a  friend, 
starving  upon  a  beggarly  twenty  pounds  a  year — not  a  single  six- 
pence more,  upon  my  honour. 


THE    BEDFORD-ROW    CONSPIRACY 


THE 

BEDFORD-ROW   CONSPIRACY* 

CHAPTER  I 

OF  THE  LOVES  OF  MR.  PERKINS  AND  MISS  GORGON,  AND  OF  THE 
TWO  GREAT  FACTIONS  IN  THE  TOIVN  OF  OLDBOROUGH 


M 


Y  dear  Jolm,"  cried  Lucy,  with  a  very  wise  look  indeed, 
"  it  must  and  shall  be  so.  As  for  Doughty  Street,  with 
our  means,  a  house  is  out  of  the  question.  We  must  keep 
three  servants,  and  Aunt  Biggs  says  the  taxes  are  one-and-twenty 
pounds  a  year." 

"  I  have  seen  a  sweet  place  at  Chelsea,"  remarked  John : 
"Paradise  Row,  No.  17, — garden — greenhouse — fifty  pounds  a  year 
— omnibus  to  town  within  a  mile." 

"  What !  that  I  may  be  left  alone  all  day,  and  you  spend  a  fortune 
in  driving  backward  and  forward  in  those  horrid  breakneck  cabs  ? 
My  darling,  I  sliould  die  there — die  of  fright,  I  knuw  I  should. 
Did  you  not  say  yourself  that  the  road  was  not  as  yet  lighted,  and 
that  the  place  swarmed  with  public-houses  and  dreadful  tipsy  Irish 
bricklayers  1     Would  you  kill  me,  John  1 " 

"My  da — arling,"  said  John,  with  tremendous  fondness, 
clutching  Miss  Lucy  suddenly  round  the  waist,  and  rapping  the 
hand  of  that  young  person  violently  against  his  waistcoat, — "  My 
da— arling,  don't  say  such  things,  even  in  a  joke.  If  I  objected 
to  the  chambers,  it  is  only  because  you,  my  love,  with  your  birth 
and  connections,  ought  to  have  a  house  of  your  own.  The  chambers 
are  quite  large  enougli,  and  certainly  quite  good  enough  for  me." 
And  so,  after  some  more  sweet  parley  on  the  part  of  these  young 
people,  it  was  agreed  that  they  should  take  up  their  abode,  when 
married,  in  a  part  of  the  House  number  One  hundred  and  some- 
thing, Bedford  Row. 

*  A  story  of  Charles  de  Bernard  furnished  the  plot  of  "The  Bedford-Row 
Conspiracy." 


592  THE    BEDFORD-ROW    CONSPIRACY 

It  will  be  necessary  to  ex{)lain  to  the  reader  that  John  was  no 
other  than  John  Perkins,  Esquire,  of  the  Middle  Temple,  barrister- 
at-law,  and  tliat  Miss  Lucy  was  the  daughter  of  the  late  Ca])tain 
Gorgon,  and  Marianne  Biggs,  his  wife.     The  Cai)tain  being  of  noble 

connections,   younger   son   of  a   baronet,    cousin  to    Lord  X , 

and  .related  to   the   Y family,   had  angered    all   his  relati\'es 

by  marrying  a  very  silly  pretty  young  woman,  who  kept  a  ladies'- 
school  at  Canterbury.  She  had  six  hundred  pounds  to  her  fortune, 
which  the  Captain  laid  out  in  the  purchase  of  a  sweet  travelling- 
carnage  and  dressing-case  for  himself:  and  going  abroad  with  his 
lady,  spent  several  yeare  in  the  principal  prisons  of  Europe,  in  one 
of  which  he  died.  His  wife  and  daughter  were  meantime  supported 
by  the  contributions  of  Mrs.  Jemima  Biggs,  who  still  kept  the 
ladies'-school. 

At  last  a  dear  old  relative — such  a  one  as  one  reads  of  in 
romances — died  and  left  seven  thousand  pounds  apiece  to  the  two 
sisters,  whereupon  the  elder  gave  up  schooling  and  retired  to 
London ;  and  the  younger  managed  to  live  with  some  comfort  and 
decency  at  Brussels,  upon  two  hundred  and  ten  pounds  per  annum. 
Mrs.  Gorgon  never  touched  a  shilling  of  her  capital,  for  the  very 
good  reason  that  it  was  placed  entirely  out  of  her  reach  ;  so  that 
when  she  died,  her  daughter  found  herself  in  possession  of  a  simi 
of  money  that  is  not  always  to  be  met  with  in  this  world. 

Her  aunt  the  baronet's  lady,  and  her  aunt  the  ex-schoolmistress, 
both  wrote  very  pressing  invitations  to  her,  and  she  resided  with 
each  for  six  months  after  her  arrival  in  England.  Now,  for  a 
second  time,  she  had  come  to  Mrs.  Biggs,  Caroline  Place,  Mecklen- 
burgh  Square.  It  was  under  the  roof  of  that  respectable  old  lady 
that  John  Perkins,  Esquire,  being  invited  to  take  tea,  wooed  and 
won  jNIiss  Gorgon. 

Having  thus  described  the  circumstances  of  Miss  Gorgon's  life, 
let  us  pass  for  a  moment  from  that  yoimg  lady,  and  lift  up  the  veil 
of  mystery  which  envelo]is  the  deeds  and  character  of  Perkins. 

Perkins,  too,  was  an  orphan  ;  and  he  and  his  Lucy,  of  summer 
evenings,  wlien  Sol  descending  lingered  fondly  yet  about  the  minarets 
of  the  Fountlling,  and  gilded  the  gra.ssplots  of  Mecklenburgh  Sciuare 
— Perkins,  I  say,  and  Lucy  woidd  often  sit  together  in  the  summer- 
house  of  that  pleasure-ground,  and  muse  upon  the  strange  coincidences 
of  their  life.  Lucy  was  motherless  and  fatherless ;  so  too  was 
Perkins.  If  Perkins  was  brothtirless  and  sisterless,  was  not  Lucy 
likewise  an  only  child  ?  Perkins  was  twenty-three  :  his  age  and 
Lucy's  united,  amounted  to  forty-six  ;  and  it  was  to  be  remarked, 
as  a  fact  still  more  extraordinary,  that  while  Lucy's  relatives  were 
atcnfs,  John's  were  uncles.     ^Mysterious  spirit  of  love  !  let  us  treat 


THE    BEDFORD-ROW    CONSPIRACY  593 

thee  witli  respect  and  whisper  not  tuo  nuiiiy  of  thy  Becrets.  Tlie 
fact  is,  Johu  and  Lucy  were  a  pair  of  fools  (aa  every  young  couple 
oufjht  to  be  who  have  hearts  that  are  worth  a  farthing),  and  were 
ready  to  find  (-oincidences,  sympathies,  hidden  gushes  of  feeling, 
mystic  unions  of  the  soul,  and  what  not,  in  every  single  circumstance 
that  occurred  from  the  rising  of  the  sun  to  the  going  down  thereof, 
and  in  the  intervals.  Bedford  Row,  where  Perkins  lived,  is  not 
very  far  from  Mccklenbiu-gh  Square  ;  and  Johu  iLsed  to  say  tliat  he 
felt  a  comfort  that  his  house  and  Lucy's  were  served  by  the  same 
muffin-man. 

Further  comment  is  needless.  A  more  honest,  simple,  clever, 
warm-hearted,  soft,  wliimsical,  romantical,  high-s[)irited  young  fellow 
than  John  Perkins  did  not  exist.  When  his  father.  Doctor  Perkins, 
died,  this,  his  only  son,  was  placed  under  the  care  of  John  Perkins, 
Es(iuire,  of  the  house  of  Perkins,  Scully,  and  Perkins,  those  cele- 
brated attorneys  in  the  trading  town  of  Oldborough,  which  the 
second  partner,  William  Pitt  Scully,  Esquire,  represented  in  Parlia- 
ment and  in  London. 

All  John's  fortune  was  the  house  in  Bedford  Row,  which,  at  his 
father's  death,  was  let  out  into  chambers,  and  brought  in  a  clear 
hundred  a  year.  Under  his  uncle's  roof  at  Oldborough,  where  he 
lived  with  thirteen  red-haired  male  and  female  cousins,  he  was  only 
charged  fifty  pounds  for  board,  clothes,  and  pocket-money,  and  tlie 
remainder  of  his  rents  was  carefully  put  by  for  him  until  his  majority. 
When  he  approached  that  period — when  he  came  to  belong  to  two 
spouting-clubs  at  Oldborough,  among  the  young  merchants  and 
lawyers'  clerks— to  blow  the  flute  nicely,  and  play  a  good  game  at 
billiards — to  have  written  one  or  two  smart  things  in  the  Oldhorough 
Sentinel — to  be  fond  of  smoking  (in  which  act  he  was  discovered 
by  his  fainting  aunt  at  three  o'clock  one  morning) — in  one  word, 
when  John  Perkins  amved  at  manhood,  he  discovered  that  he  was 
quite  unfit  to  be  an  attorney,  that  he  detested  all  the  ways  of  his 
uncle's  stern,  dull,  vulgar,  regular,  red-headed  family,  and  he  vowed 
that  he  would  go  to  London  and  make  his  fortune.  Thither  he 
went,  his  aunt  and  cousins,  who  were  all  "  serious,"  vowing  that 
he  was  a  lost  boy  ;  and  when  his  history  opens,  John  had  been  two 
years  in  the  metroi)olis,  inhabiting  his  owni  garrets  ;  and  a  very  nice 
compact  set  of  apartments,  looking  into  the  back-garden,  at  this  moment 
falling  vacant,  the  i.rudent  Lucy  Gorgon  had  visited  them,  and  vowed 
that  she  and  her  John  should  there  commence  housekeeping. 

All  these  exjjlanations  are  tedious,  but  necessary ;  and  further- 
more, it  must  be  said,  that  as  John's  uncle's  partner  was  the  Liberal 
member  for  Oldborough,  so  Lucy's  uncle  was  its  Ministerial  repre- 
sentative. 


594  THE    BEDFORD-ROW    CONSPIRACY 

This  gentleman,  the  brother  of  the  deceased  Captain  Gorgon, 
lived  at  the  paternal  mansion  of  Gorgon  Castle,  and  rejoiced  in  the 
name  and  title  of  Sir  George  Grimsby  Gorgon.  He,  too,  like  his 
younger  brother,  had  married  a  lady  beneath  his  own  rank  in  life ; 
having  espoused  the  daughter  and  heiress  of  Mr.  Hicks,  the  great 
brewer  at  Oldborough,  who  held  numerous  mortgages  on  the  Gorgon 
property,  all  of  which  he  yielded  up,  together  with  his  daughter 
Juliana,  to  the  care  of  the  baronet. 

What  Lady  Gorgon  was  in  character,  this  history  will  show. 
In  person,  if  she  may  be  compared  to  any  vulgar  animal,  one  of  her 
father's  heavy,  healthy,  broad-Hanke<l,  Roman-nosed  white  dray- 
horses  might,  to  the  poetic  mind,  ajipear  to  resemble  her.  At 
twenty  she  was  a  sjilondid  creature,  aiid  though  not  at  her  full 
growth,  yet  remarkahlc  for  strength  and  sinew;  at  forty-five  she 
was  as  fine  a  woman  as  any  in  His  Majesty's  dominions.  Five  feet 
seven  in  height,  thirteen  stone,  her  own  teeth  and  hair,  she  looked 
as  if  she  were  the  motlier  (tf  a  reinmcnt  of  Grenadier  Guards.  She 
had  three  daughters  of  her  own  size,  and  at  length,  ten  years  after 
the  birth  of  the  last  of  the  young  ladies,  a  son — one  son — George 
Augustus  Frederick  Grimsby  fiorgon,  the  godson  of  a  royal  duke, 
whose  steady  officer  in  waiting  Sir  George  had  been  for  many  years. 

It  is  needless  to  say,  after  entering  so  largely  into  a  description 
of  Lady  Gorgon,  that  her  husband  was  a  little 'shrivelled  wizen-faced 
creature,  eight  inches  shorter  tlian  her  Ladyship.  This  is  the  way 
of  the  world,  as  every  single  reath-r  of  this  book  nmst  liave  remarked  ; 
for  frolic  love  delights  to  join  giants  and  jiigmies  of  ditterent  sexes 
in  the  bonds  of  matrimony.  When  you  saw  her  Ladyshij),  in  flame- 
coloured  satin  and  gorgeous  tiKpie  and  feathers,  entering  the  dmwing- 
room,  as  footmen  aUnig  the  stairs  shouted  melodiously,  "Sir  George 
and  La<ly  Gorgon,"  you  beheld  in  her  company  a  small  withered  old 
gentleman,  with  powder  and  large  royal  household  buttons,  who 
tripped  at  her  elbow  jis  a  little  weak-legged  colt  does  at  the  side  of 
a  stout  mare. 

The  little  General  had  been  present  at  about  a  hundred  and 
twenty  ititeheil  liattles  on  Hounslow  Heatli  aTnl  Wormwood  Scrubs, 
but  had  never  drawn  his  sworI  against  an  eiicn\y.  As  might  be 
expected,  therefore,  his  talk  and  tenve  were  outrageously  military. 
He  had  the  whole  Army  List  by  heart — tliat  is,  as  far  as  the  field- 
otficei"s :  all  below  them  he  scorned.  A  bugle  at  Gorgon  Castle 
always  sounded  at  breakfa.>^t  and  dinner:  a  gun  announced  sunset. 
He  clung  to  his  pigtail  for  many  years  after  the  army  had  forsaken 
that  ornament,  and  could  never  be  brought  to  think  much  of  the 
Peninsular  men  for  giving  it  up.  When  lie  spoke  of  the  Duke, 
he  used  to  call  him  "  J/y  Lord    Wellinr/ton — /  i-ecollect  him  as 


THE    BEDFORD-ROW    CONSPIRACY  595 

Captain  Welle^leij."  He  swore  fearfully  in  conversation,  was  most 
regular  at  cluu-cli,  and  regularly  read  to  liis  flmiily  and  doniesties 
tlie  morning  and  evening  j)rayer ;  he  bullied  his  daughters,  seemed 
to  bully  his  wife,  who  led  Inm  whither  siie  chose  ;  gave  grand  enter- 
tainments, and  never  asked  a  friend  by  chance;  had  splendid 
liveries,  and  starved  his  jjcople ;  and  was  as  dull,  stingy,  jwuipous, 
insolent,  cringing,  ill-tempered  a  little  creature  as  ever  was  known. 

With  sucli  qualities  you  may  fancy  that  he  was  generally 
adnured  in  society  and  l)y  his  country.  So  he  was :  and  I  never 
knew  a  man  so  endowed  whose  way  tlirough  life  was  not  safe — who 
had  fewer  pangs  of  conscience — more  p(jsitive  enjoyments — more 
respect  shown  to  him — more  favours  granted  to  him,  tlian  such  a 
one  as  my  friend  the  General. 

Her  Ladysliip  was  just  suited  to  him,  and  they  did  in  reality 
admire  each  other  hugely.  Previously  to  her  marriage  with  the 
baronet,  many  love-passages  had  passed  between  her  and  William 
Pitt  Scully,  Esquire,  the  attorney ;  and  there  was  especially  one 
story,  a  projios  of  certain  syllabubs  and  Sally-Lunn  cakes,  which 
seemed  to  sIkjw  that  matters  had  gone  very  far.  Be  this  as  it  may, 
no  sooner  did  the  General  (Major  Gorgon  he  was  tlien)  cast  an  eye 
(ju  her,  than  Scully's  five  years'  fabric  of  love  was  instantly  dashed 
to  the  ground.  She  cut  liim  pitilessly,  cut  Sally  Scully,  his  sister, 
her  dearest  friend  and  confidante,  and  bestowed  her  big  person  upon 
the  little  aide-de-cami)  at  tlie  end  of  a  fortnight's  wooing.  In  the 
course  of  time  their  mutual  fathers  died  ;  the  Gorgon  estates  were 
unencumbered  :  jtatron  of  both  the  seats  in  the  borough  of  Old- 
borough,  and  occupant  of  one,  Sir  George  Grimsby  Gorgon,  Baronet, 
was  a  personage  of  no  small  importance. 

He  was,  it  scarcely  need  to  be  said,  a  Tory ;  and  this  was  the 
reason  X^hy  William  Pitt  Scully,  Esquire,  of  the  firai  of  Perkins  and 
Scully,  deserted  those  principles  in  which  he  had  been  bred  and 
christened ;  deserted  that  church  which  he  had  frequented,  for  he 
(;ould  not  bear  to  see  Sir  George  and  my  Lady  flaunting  in  their 
grand  pew ; — deserted,  I  say,  the  cluu'ch,  adopted  the  conventicle, 
and  became  one  of  the  most  zealous  and  eloquent  supporters  that 
Freedom  has  known  in  our  time.  Scully,  of  the  house  of  Scully 
and  Perkins,  was  a  dangerous  enemy.  In  five  years  from  that 
marriage,  which  snatched  from  the  jilted  solicitor  his  heart's  young 
affiections,  Sir  George  Gorgon  found  that  he  must  actually  spend 
seven  hundred  pounds  to  keep  liis  two  seats.  At  the  next  election, 
a  Liberal  was  set  up  against  lus  man,  and  actually  ran  him  hard  ; 
and  finally,  at  the  end  of  eighteen  years,  the  rejected  Scully — the 
mean  attorney — was  actually  the  first  Member  for  Oldborough,  Sir 
George  Grimsby  Gorgon,  Baronet,  being  only  the  second  ! 


596  THE    BEDFORD-ROW   CONSPIRACY 

T!ie  agony  of  that  day  rannot  Ix?  imai^ined — tlie  (lrea<lful  curses 
of  Sir  George,  avIio  saw  fifteen  hundred  a  year  rol)bed  from  under 
his  very  nose — the  religious  resignation  of  my  Lady — the  hideous 
■window-smashing  that  took  place  at  the  "  Gorgon  Arms,"  and  the 
discomfiture  of  the  pelted  Mayor  and  Corporation.  The  very  next 
Sunday,  Scully  was  reconciled  to  the  church  (or  attended  it  in  the 
morning,  and  the  meeting  twice  in  the  afternoon),  and  as  Doctor 
Sncjrter  uttered  the  prayer  for  the  High  Court  of  Parliament,  his 
eye,  the  eye  of  his  whole  i)arty — turned  towards  Lady  Gorgon  and 
Sir  George  in  a  most  unholy  triumiih.  Sir  George  (who  always 
stood  during  jtrayers,  like  a  military  man)  fairly  sank  down  among 
the  hassocks,  and  Lady  (Jorgon  was  heard  to  sob  as  audibly  as  ever 
ditl  little  lM!adl('-lu'lal)()un'd  urchin. 

Scully,  when  at  Oldborough,  came  from  that  day  forth  to 
church.  "  What,"  said  he,  "  was  it  to  him  1  were  we  not  all 
brethren?"  Old  Perkins,  however,  kei>t  religiously  to  the  S(iuare- 
toes  congregation.  Li  fact,  to  tell  the  trutii,  tliis  subject  had  been 
debated  between  the  jjartners,  who  saw  the  a<lvantnge  of  courting 
both  the  Establishment  and  the  l)i.ssenters — a  nianu'uvre  which,  I 
need  not  say,  is  rejteated  in  almost  every  country  town  in  Englanii, 
where  a  solicitor's  house  h;us  this  kind  of  p<nver  and  connection. 

Three  months  after  this  election  came  the  races  at  Oldborough, 
and  the  race-ball.  fJorgon  was  so  infuriated  by  his  defeat,  that  he 
gave  "the  (}orgon  <up  ami  cover,"  a  matter  of  fifteen  jMiunds. 
Scully,  "although  anxiou.s,"  as  lie  wrote  from  town,  "an.xious 
beyond  measure  to  j»re.serve  the  breed  of  horses  for  which  our 
lieloved  country  has  ever  been  famous,  could  attend  no  such  sports 
;ls  these,  wliicii  but  too  often  degenerated  into  vice."  It  was  voted 
a  shabby  e.xcu.se.  Lady  Gorgon  was  radiant  in  her  barouche  and 
four,  and  gladly  became  tiie  jiatroni'ss  of  the  ball  that  ^as  to 
ensue  ;  and  which  all  the  gentry  and  townspeojile,  Tory  and  Whig, 
were  in  the  custom  of  attending.  The  ball  took  place  on  tlie  li\st 
day  of  the  races.  On  that  day,  the  walls  of  the  market-house,  the 
])rincipal  public  ]iuildini,'s,  and  the  "Gorgon  Arms  Hotel"  itself, 
Were  jihistered  witli  the  following — 

"  Letter  from  our  distincjuished  representative,  William  P.  Scully, 

Esquire,  etc.,  etc. 

"House  of  Commons:  June\,  18 — . 

"My   dear   Heeltap, — You  know  my  opinion  about  horse 
racing,  and  though  I  blame  neither  you  nor  any  brother  English 
man  who  enjoys  that  manly  sport,  you  will,  I  am  sure,  appreciate 
the  conscientious  motives  which  induce  me  not  to  appear  among 


THE    BEDFORD-ROW    CONSPIRACY  597 

my  friends  and  constituents  on  the  festival  of  the  3rd,  4th,  and  5th 
instant.  If  /,  however,  cannot  allow  my  name  to  appear  among 
your  list  of  stewards,  one  at  least  of  the  representatives  of  Old- 
borough  has  no  such  scruples.  Sir  George  Gorgon  is  among  you  : 
and  though  I  (lifter  from  that  honouralile  Baronet  on  more  than 
one  vital  point,  I  am  glad  to  think  that  he  is  with  you.  A 
gentleman,  a  soldier,  a  man  of  property  in  the  county,  how  can 
he  be  better  employed  than  in  forwarding  the  county's  amuse- 
ments, and  in  forwarding  the  happiness  of  all  ? 

"  Had  I  no  such  scruples  as  those  to  which  I  have  just  alluded, 
I  must  still  have  refrained  from  coming  among  you.  Your  great 
Oldborough  common-drainage  and  enclosure  hill  comes  on  to-morrow, 
and  I  shall  be  at  my  post.  I  am  sure,  if  Sir  George  Gorgon  were 
here,  he  and  I  should  on  this  occasion  vote  side  by  side,  and  that 
party  strife  would  be  forgotten  in  the  object  of  our  common  interest 
— otir  dear  native  town. 

"  There  is,  however,  another  occasion  at  hand,  in  which  I  shall 
be  proud  to  meet  him.  Your  ball  is  on  the  night  of  the  6th. 
Party  forgotten — brotherly  union — innocent  mirth — beauty,  okv 
dear  town's  heauty,  our  daughters  in  the  joy  of  their  expanding 
loveliness,  our  matrons  in  the  exquisite  contemplation  of  their 
children's  bliss — can  you,  can  I,  can  Whig  or  Tory,  can  any  Briton 
be  indifferent  to  a  scene  like  this,  or  refuse  to  join  in  this  heart- 
stirring  festival  ?  If  there  be  such  let  them  pardon  me — I,  for  one, 
my  dear  Heeltap,  will  be  among  you  on  Friday  night — ay,  and 
hereby  invite  all  pretty  Tory  Misses,  who  are  in  want  of  a 
partner. 

"  I  am  here  in  the  very  midst  of  good  things,  you  know,  and 
we  old  folks  like  a  supjm-  after  a  dance.  Please  to  accept  a  brace 
of  bucks  and  a  turtle,  which  come  herewith.  My  worthy  colleague, 
who  was  so  liberal  last  year  of  his  soup  to  the  ]ioor,  will  not,  I 
trust,  refuse  to  taste  a  little  of  Alderman  Birch's — 'tis  offered  on 
my  part  with  hearty  goodwill.  Hey  for  the  6th,  and  vive  la  joie  ! 
—Ever,  my  dear  Heeltap,  your  faithful  W.  Pitt  Scully. 

«  p^S. — Of  course  this  letter  is  strictly  private.  Say  that  the 
venison,  &c.,  came  from  a  well-tvisher  to  Oldborough." 


a 


This  amazing  letter  was  published,  in  defiance  of  Mr.  Scully's 
injunctions,  by  the  enthusiastic  Heeltap,  who  said  bluntly,  in  a 
preface,  "  that  he  saw  no  reason  why  Mr.  Scully  should  be  ashamed 
of  his  action,  and  he,  for  his  part,  was  glad  to  let  all  friends  at 
Oldborough  know  of  it." 

The   allusion   about   the   Gorgon   soup   was   killing:    thirteen 


598  THE    BEDFORD-ROAV   CONSPIRACY 

paupers  in  Oldborough  had,  it  was  confidently  asserted,  died  of  it. 
Lady  Gorgon,  on  the  reading  of  this  letter,  Avas  struck  completely 
dumb  ;  Sir  George  Gorgon  was  wild.  Ten  dozen  of  champagne  was 
he  obliged  to  send  down  to  the  "Gorgon  Arms,"  to  be  added  to 
the  festival.  He  would  have  stayed  away  if  he  could,  but  he 
dared  not. 

At  nine  o'clock,  he  in  general's  uniform  ;  his  wife  in  blue  satin 
and  diamonds ;  his  daughters  in  l)lue  crape  and  white  roses ;  his 
niece,  Lucy  Gorgon,  in  white  muslin ;  his  .son,  George  Augustus 
Frederick  Grimsby  Gorgon,  in  a  blue  velvet  jacket,  sugar-loaf 
buttons,  and  nank('en.s,  entered  the  north  door  of  the  ballroom,  to 
nuich  cheering,  ami  the  sound  of  "  God  save  the  King  !  " 

At  that  very  same  moment,  and  from  the  south  door,  issued 
William  Pitt  Scully,  Esquire,  M.P.,  and  his  staff.  Mr.  Scully  had 
a  brand-new  blue  coat  and  l)rass  buttons,  buff  waistcoat,  white  kersey- 
mere tights,  pumps  with  large  rosettes,  and  pink  .silk  stockings. 

"This  wool,"  said  he  to  a  friend,  "wa.s  grown  on  Oldborough 
sheep,  this  cloth  was  spun  in  Oldborough  looms,  these  buttons  Mere 
cast  in  an  Oldborough  manufart(jry,  these  shoes  were  made  by  an 
Oldborough  tradesman,  tliis  heart  first  beat  in  Oldborough  town, 
and  pray  Heaven  may  lie  buried  there  !  " 

Could  anything  resist  a  man  like  this  ?  John  Perkins,  wljo  had 
conic  down  as  one  of  Scully's  aides-de-cam]),  in  a  fit  of  generous 
enthusiasm,  leaped  on  a  wiiist-table,  Huiil'  up  a  pocket-handkerchief, 
and  shrieked — "  Scully  for  ever  !  ' 

Heeltaj),  who  was  generally  drunk,  fairly  burst  into  tears,  and 
tlie  grave  tradesmen  and  Wliig  gentry,  who  had  dined  with  the 
Memlier  at  his  iini,  and  accompanied  him  thence  to  the  "  Gorgon 
Ai'ins,"  lifted  their  deep  voices  and  .shouted,  "Hear!"  "Good!" 
"  Rnivo  !  "  "  Noble  !  "  "  Scully  for  ever  !  "  "  God  bless  him  !  "  and 
"  Hurrah  !  " 

The  scene  wtis  tumultuously  affecting ;  and  when  young  Perkins 
sprang  down  from  the  table  and  came  blushing  up  to  the  Member, 
that  gentleman  said,  "  Thank  you.  Jack  !  thank  you,  my  Ixiy ! 
THANK  you,"  in  a  way  which  niade  Perkins  think  that  his  sujireme 
cup  of  bli.ss  was  quafied  ;  that  he  had  but  to  die  :  for  that  life  had 
no  other  such  joy  in  store  for  him.  Scully  was  Perkins's  Napoleon 
— he  yielded  him.self  up  to  the  attorney,  body  and  soul. 

Whilst  this  scene  was  going  on  under  one  chandelier  of  the  ball- 
room, beneath  the  other  scarlet  little  General  Gorgon,  sumptuous 
Lady  Gorgon,  the  daughters  and  niece  Gorgons,  were  stamling  sur- 
rounded by  their  Tory  court,  who  atlccted  to  sneer  and  titter  at  the 
Whig  demonstrations  which  were  taking  place. 

"  What  a  howwid  thmell  of  whithkey  !  "  lisped  Cornet  Fitch,  of 


THE    BEDFORD-ROW    CONSPIRACY  599 

the  Dnii^oons,  to  Miss  Lucy,  confidentially.      "  And  tliethe  are  what 
they  call  Whigth,  are  they  1     He  !  he  !  " 

"  They  are  drunk,  ■ me — drunk,  by !  "  said  the  General 

to  the  Mayor. 

"  Which  is  Scully  1 "  said  Lady  Gorgon,  lifting  her  glass  gravely 
(she  was  at  that  very  moment  thinking  of  the  syllabubs).  "  Is  it 
that  tipsy  man  in  the  green  coat,  or  that  vulgar  creature  in  the 
blue  one  % " 

"  Law,  my  Lady,"  said  the  Mayoress,  "  have  you  forgotten  him  % 
Why,  that's  him  in  blue  and  buff." 

"  And  a  monthous  fine  man,  too,"  said  Cornet  Fitch.  "  I  wish 
we  had  him  in  our  twoop — he'th  thix  feet  thwee,  if  he'th  an  inch  ; 
ain't  he,  Genewal  1 " 

No  reply. 

"  And  heavens  !  mamma,"  shrieked  the  three  Gorgons  in  a  breath, 
"  see,  one  creature  is  on  the  whist-tal)Ie.     Oh,  the  wretch  !  " 

"  I'm  sure  he's  very  good-looking,"  said  Lucy  simi)ly. 

Lady  Gorgon  darted  at  her  an  angry  look,  and  was  aliout  to  say 
something  very  contemptuous,  when,  at  that  instant,  John  Perkins's 
shout  taking  effect.  Master  George  Augustus  Frederick  Grimsby 
Gorgon,  not  knowing  better,  incontinently  raised  a  small  shout  on 
his  side. 

"  Hear  !  good  !  bravo  !  "  exclaimed  he  ;  "  Scully  for  ever  ! 
Hurra-a-a-ay  ! "  and  fell  skii)ping  about  like  the  Whigs  opjiosite. 

"  Silence,  you  brute  you  ! "  groaned  Lady  Gorgon  ;  and  seizing 
him  by  the  shirt-frill  and  coat-collar,  carried  liim  away  to  his  nurse, 
who,  with  many  other  maids  of  the  Whig  and  Tory  parties,  stood 
giggling  and  peeping  at  the  landing-place. 

Fancy  how  all  these  small  incidents  augmented  the  heap  of  Lady 
Gorgon's  anger  and  injuries  !  She  was  a  dull  phlegmatic  woman  for 
the  most  part,  and  contented  herself  generally  with  merely  despising 
her  neighbours ;  but  oh  !  what  a  fine  active  hatred  raged  in  her 
bosom  for  victorious  Scully  !  At  this  moment  Mr.  Perkins  had 
finished  shaking  hands  with  his  Napoleon— Napoleon  seemed  bent 
upon  some  tremendous  enterprise.  He  was  looking  at  Lady  Gorgon 
very  hard. 

"  She's  a  fine  woman,"  said  Scully  thoughtfully  ;  he  was  still 
holding  the  hand  of  Perkins.  And  then,  after  a  pause,  "  Gad  !  I 
think  I'll  try. ' 

"Try  what,  sirT' 

"  She's  a  deuced  fine  woman ! "  burst  out  again  the  tender 
solicitor.      "  I  u'ill  go.     Springer,  tell  the  fiddlers  to  strike  up." 

Springer  scuttled  across  the  room,  and  gave  the  leader  of  the 
band  a  knowing  nod.     Suddenly,  "  God  save  the  King  "  ceased,  and 


6oo  THE    BEDFORD-ROW    CONSPIRACY 

"  Sir  Roscr  de  Coverley  "  began.  Tlie  rival  forces  eyed  each  other ; 
Mr.  Sinilly,  accompanied  by  his  friend,  came  forward,  looking  very 
red,  and  fumbling  two  large  kid  gloves. 

"  He's  fioing  to  ask  me  to  dance"  hissed  out  Lady  Gorgon,  with 
a  dreadful  intuition,  and  she  drew  back  behind  her  lord. 

"  D it,  madam,  then  dance  with  him  !  "  said  the  General. 

"  Don't  you  see  that  the  scoundrel  is  carrying  it  all  his  own  way  ! 

him  !  and him  !  and him  !  "     (All  of  whicli  dashes 

the  reader  may  fill  up  with  oaths  of  such  strength  as  may  be 
requisite.) 

"  General !  "  cried  Lady  Gorgon,  but  could  say  no  more.  Scully 
was  before  her. 

"  Madam  !  "  exclaimed  the  Liberal  Member  for  Oldborough,  "  in 
a  moment  like  this — I  say — that  is — that  on  the  present  occasion — • 
your  Ladyship — unaccustomed  as  I  am — pooh,  psha — will  your 
Ladyship  give  mc  the  distinguished  honour  and  pleasure  of  going 
down  the  country -dance  with  your  Ladyship  ? " 

An  immense  heave  of  her  Ladyship's  ample  chest  was  per- 
ceptible. Yards  of  blond  lace,  whicli  might  be  compared  to  a 
foam  of  the  sea,  were  agitated  at  the  same  moment,  and  by  the 
same  mighty  emotion.  The  river  of  diamonds  which  flowed  round 
her  Ladysliiji's  neck,  seemed  to  swell  and  to  shine  more  than  ever. 
The  tall  plumes  on  her  ambrosial  head  bowed  down  beneath  the 
storm.  Li  other  words.  Lady  Gorgon,  in  a  furious  rage,  which 
she  was  compelled  to  restrain,  trembled,  drew^  up,  and  bowing 
majestically,  said  — 

"Sir,  I  shall  have  much  pleasure."  With  this,  she  extended 
her  hand.  Scully,  trembling,  thrust  forward  one  of  his  huge  kid- 
gloves,  and  led  her  to  tlie  head  of  the  country-daiice.  John  Perkins 
— who  I  presume  had  been  drinking  pretty  freely,  so  as  to  have 
forgotten  his  ordinary  bashfulness — looked  at  the  three  Gorgons  in 
blue,  then  at  the  pretty  smiling  one  in  white,  and  stepping  up  to 
her,  witliout  the  smallest  hesitation,  asked  her  if  she  would  dance 
with  him.  The  young  lady  smilingly  agreed.  The  great  example 
of  Scully  and  Lady  Gorgon  was  followed  by  all  dancing  men  and 
women.  Politii-al  ennuties  were  forgotten.  Whig  voters  invited 
Tory  voters'  wives  to  the  dance.  The  daughters  of  Reform  accepted 
the  hands  of  the  sons  of  Conservatism.  The  reconciliation  of  the 
Romans  and  Sabines  was  not  more  touching  than  this  sweet  fusion. 
Whack — whack  !  Mr.  Springer  chipped  his  hands  ;  and  the  fiddlers 
adroitly  obeying  the  cheerful  signal,  began  playing  "  Sir  Roger  de 
Coverley  "  louder  than  ever. 

I  do  not  know  by  what  extraordinary  charm  {nescio  qua  proiter 
solitum,  &c.),  but  young  Perkins,  who  all  his  life  had  hated  country- 


THE    BEDFORD-ROW    CONSPIRACY  6oi 

fiances,  was  dpli^litod  witli  tliis  one,  and  skij)ped  and  lanulu'il,  [>ous- 
setting,  crossing,  down-the-niiddling,  with  his  merry  little  partner, 
till  every  one  of  the  bettermost  sort  of  the  thirty-nine  couples  had 
dropped  panting  away,  and  till  the  youngest  Miss  Gorgon,  coming 
UJ1  to  his  partner,  said  in  a  loud  hissing  scornfid  whispier,  "  Lucy, 
mamma  thinks  you  have  danced  quite  enough  with  this —  this 
person."  And  Lucy,  ])lushing,  starting  l)ack,  and  looking  at  Perkins 
in  a  very  melancholy  way,  made  him  a  little  curtsey,  and  went  off 
to  the  Gorgonian  party  with  her  cousin.  Perkins  was  too  frightened 
to  lead  her  back  to  her  place — too  frightened  at  first,  and  then  too 
angry.  "  Person  !  "  said  he  :  his  soul  swelled  with  a  desperate  re- 
publicanism :  he  went  back  to  his  patron  more  of  a  Radical  than 
ever. 

He  found  that  gentleman  in  the  solitary  tea-room,  pacing  up 
and  down  before  the  observant  landlady  and  handmaidens  of  the 
"Gorgon  Arms,"  wiping  his  brows,  gnawing  his  fingers— his  ears 
looming  over  his  stiff  white  shirt-collar  as  red  as  fire.  Once  more 
the  great  man  seized  John  Perkins's  hand  as  the  latter  came  up. 

"  D the  aristocrats  !  "  roared  the  ex-follower  of  Squaretoes. 

"And  so  say  I !  but  what's  the  matter,  sir?" 

"What's  the  matter?  —  Why,  that  woman  —  that  infernal, 
havighty,  straitlaced,  cold-blooded  brewer's  daughter !  I  loved  that 
woman,  sir — I  kissed  tliat  woman,  sir,  twenty  years  ago :  we  were 
all  but  engaged,  sir :  we've  walked  for  hours  and  hours,  sir- — us 
and  the  governess — Pve  got  a  lock  of  her  hair,  sir,  among  my  papers 
now ;  and  to-night,  would  you  believe  it  ? — as  soon  as  she  got  to 
the  bottom  of  the  set,  away  she  went — not  one  word  would  she 
speak  to  me  all  the  way  down  :  and  when  I  wanted  to  lead  her 
to  her  place,  and  asked  her  if  she  would  have  a  glass  of  negus,  '  Sir,' 
says  she,  '  I  have  done  my  duty  ;  I  bear  no  malice :  but  I  consider 
you  a  traitor  to  Sir  George  Gorgon's  family  — a  traitor  and  an 
upstart !  I  consider  your  speaking  to  me  as  a  piece  of  insolent 
vulgarity,  and  beg  you  will  leave  me  to  myself ! '  There's  her 
speech,  sir.  Twenty  people  heard  it,  and  all  of  her  Tory  set  too. 
Pll  tell  you  what.  Jack  :  at  the  next  election  I'll  put  you  up.  Oh 
that  woman  !  that  woman  ! — and  to  think  that  I  love  her  still ! " 
Here  Mr.  Scully  paused,  and  fiercely  consoled  himself  by  swallow- 
ing three  cups  of  Mrs.  Rincer's  green  tea. 

The  act  is,  that  Lady  Gorgon's  passion  had  completely  got  the 
better  ot  her  reason.  Her  Ladyship  was  naturally  cold,  and 
artificially  extremely  squeamish ;  and  when  this  great  red-faced 
enemy  of  hers  looked  tenderly  at  her  through  his  red  little  eyes, 
and  squeezed  her  hand  and  attempted  to  renew  old  acquaintance, 
she  felt  such  an  intolerable  disgust  at  his  triumph,  at  his  familiarity, 
21 


6o2  THE    BEDFORD-ROW   CONSPIRACY 

and  at  the  remembrance  of  her  own  former  liking  for  him,  that  she 
gave  utterance  to  the  speech  above  correctly  reported.  The  Tories 
were  delighted  with  her  spirit,  and  Cornet  Fitch,  with  much  glee, 
told  the  story  to  the  General ;  but  that  oiEcer,  wdio  was  at  whist 
with  some  of  his  friends,  flung  down  his  cards,  and  coming  up  to  his 
lady,  said  briefly — 

"  Madam,  you  are  a  fool  !  " 

"  I  will  7iot  stay  here  to  be  bearded  by  that  disgusting  man  ! — 
Mr.  Fitch,  call  my  people. — Henrietta,  bring  ]\Iiss  Lucy  from  that 
linendraper  with  whom  she  is  dancing.  I  will  not  stay,  General, 
once  for  all." 

Henrietta  ran — she  hated  her  cousin :  Cornet  Fitch  was  depart- 
ing.     "Stop,   Fitch,"   said   Sir  George,  seizing  him   by   the   arm. 

"  You  are  a  fool.  Lady  Gorgon,"  said  he,  "  and  I  repeat  it — a 

fool !  This  fellow  Scully  is  carrying  all  before  him  :  he  has  talked 
■with    everybody,    laughed    with    everybody — and   you,   with    yoiu: 

infernal  airs — a  browser's  daughter,  by ,  must  sit  like  a  queen 

and  not  speak  to  a  soul  !  You've  lost  me  one  seat  of  my  borough, 
with  your  infernal  pride — fifteen  hundred  a  year,  by  Jove  ! — ami 
you  think  you  will  bully  me  out  of  another.  No,  madam,  you 
shall  stay,  and  stay  supper  too ; — and  the  girls  shall  dance  with 
every  cursed  chimney-sweep  and  butcher  in  the  room  :  they  shall — 
confound  me  ! " 

Her  Ladyship  saw  that  it  was  necessary  to  submit ;  and  Mr. 
Springer,  the  master  of  the  ceremonies,  was  called,  and  requested 
to  point  out  some  eligible  partners  for  tlie  young  laclies.  One  w^ent 
off"  with  a  Whig  auctioneer  ;  another  figured  in  a  quadrille  with  a 
very  Liberal  apothecary ;  and  tlie  third.  Miss  Henrietta,  remained. 

"  Hallo  you,  sir !  "  roared  the  little  General  to  John  Perkins, 
who  wa.s  passing  by.     John  turned  round  and  faced  him. 

"  You  were  dancing  with  my  niece  just  now — show  us  your  skill 
now,  and  dance  witii  one  of  my  daughters.  Stand  up.  Miss 
Henrietta  Gorgon — Mr.  What's-your-name "?  " 

"  My  name,"  said  John,  with  niarked  and  majestic  emphasis, 
"  is  Perkins."  And  he  looked  towards  Lucy,  who  dared  not  look 
again. 

"Miss  Gorgon — Mr.  Perkins.     There,  now  go  and  dance." 

"Mr.  Perkins  regrets,  madam,"  said  John,  making  a  bow  to 
Miss  Henrietta,  "  that  he  is  not  able  to  dance  this  evening.  I  am 
this  moment  obliged  to  look  to  the  supper  :  but  you  will  find,  no 
doubt,  some  other  person  who  will  have  nuich  pleasure." 

"Go  to  ,  sir !  "   screamed  the  General,  starting  up,  and 

shaking  his  cane. 

''Calm  yourself,  dearest  George,"  said  Lady  Gorgon,  clinging 


THE    BEDFORD-ROW    CONSPIRACY  603 

fondly  to  him.  Fitch  twiddled  liis  raou.staches.  Miss  Henrietta 
Gorgon  stared  with  open  month.  The  silks  of  the  surrounding 
dowagers  rustled — the  countenances  of  all  looked  grave. 

"  I  will  follow  you,  sir,  wherever  you  iilease  ;  and  you  may 
hear  of  me  whenever  you  like,"  said  Mr.  Perkins,  bowing  and 
retiring.  He  heard  little  Lucy  sobbing  in  a  corner.  He  was 
lost  at  once — lost  in  love ;  he  felt  as  if  he  could  combat  fifty 
generals  !  he  never  was  so  happy  in  his  life.  ' 

The  supper  came ;  but  as  that  meal  cost  five  shillings  a  head. 
General  Gorgon  dismissed  the  four  spinsters  of  his  family  homewards 
in  the  carriage,  and  so  saved  himself  a  pound.  This  added  to  Jack 
Perkins's  wrath ;  he  had  hoped  to  have  seen  Miss  Lucy  once  more. 
He  was  a  steward,  and,  in  the  General's  teeth,  would  have  done  his 
duty.  He  was  thinking  how  he  woidd  have  helped  her  to  the  most 
delicate  chicken-wings  and  blancmanges,  how  he  would  have  made 
her  take  cham])agne.  Under  the  noses  of  indignant  aunt  and  uncle, 
what  glorious  fun  it  would  have  been  ! 

Out  of  place  as  Mr.  Scidly's  present  was,  and  though  Lady 
Gorgon  and  her  party  sneeretl  at  the  vulgar  notion  of  venison  and 
turtle  for  supper,  all  the  world  at  Oldborough  ate  very  greedily  of 
those  two  substantial  dishes  ;  and  the  Mayor's  wife  became  from 
that  day  forth  a  mortal  enemy  of  the  Gorgons  :  for,  sitting  near  her 
Ladyship,  who  refused  the  i)rnffcred  soup  and  meat,  the  Mayoress 
thought  herself  obliged  to  follow  this  disagreeable  example.  She 
sent  away  the  plate  of  turtle  with  a  sigh,  saying,  however,  to  the 
baronet's  lady,  "  I  thought,  mem,  that  the  Lord  Mayor  of  London 
always  had  turtle  to  .his  supper  1 " 

"  And  what  if  he  didn't,  Biddy  1 "  said  his  Honour  the  Mayor  ; 
"  a  good  thing's  a  good  thing,  and  here  goes  !  "  wherewith  he  ])lunged 
his  spoon  into  the  savoury  mess.  The  Mayoress,  as  we  have  said, 
dared  not ;  but  she  hated  Lady  Gorgon,  and  remembered  it  at  the 
next  election. 

The  pride,  in  fact,  and  insolence  of  the  Gorgon  party  rendered 
every  person  in  the  room  hostile  to  them ;  so  soon  as,  gorged  with 
meat,  they  began  to  find  that  courage  which  Britons  invariably 
derive  from  their  victuals.  The  show  of  the  Gorgon  plate  seemed 
to  offend  the  people.  The  Gorgon  champagne  was  a  long  time,  too, 
in  making  its  appearance.  Arrive,  however,  it  did.  The  people 
were  waiting  for  it ;  the  young  ladies,  not  accustomed  to  that  drink, 
declined  pledging  their  admirers  until  it  w^as  produced ;  the  men, 
too,  despised  the  bucellas  and  sherry,  and  were  looking  continually 
towards  the  door.  At  last,  Mr.  Rincer,  t)lie  landlord,  Mr.  Hock, 
Sir  George's  butler,  and  sundry  others  entered  the  room.  Bang ! 
went  the  corks — fizz  the  foamy  liquor  sparkled   into  all   sorts   of 


6o4  THE    BEDFORD-ROW    CONSPIRACY 

glasses  that  were  held  out  for  its  reception.  Mr.  Hock  helped  Sir 
George  and  his  jjarty,  who  drank  with  great  gusto ;  the  wine  which 
was  administered  to  the  persons  immediately  around  Mr.  Scully 
was  likewise  pronounced  to  be  good.  But  Mr.  Perkins,  who  had 
taken  his  seat  among  the  humbler  individuals,  and  in  the  very 
middle  of  the  table,  observed  that  all  these  persons,  after  drinking, 
made  to  each  other  very  wry  and  ominous  faces,  and  whispered 
nnich.  He  tasted  his  wine  :  it  was  a  villainous  compound  of  sugar, 
vitriol,  soda-water,  and  green  gooseberries.  At  this  moment  a  great 
clatter  of  forks  was  made  by  the  president's  and  vice-president's 
party.     Silence  for  a  toast — 'twas  silence  all. 

"  Landlord,"  said  Mr.  Perkins,  starting  up  (the  rogue,  where 
did  his  impudence  come  from  1)  "  have  you  any  champagne  of 
1/our  own  ?  " 

"  Silence  !  down  !  "  roared  the  Tories,  the  ladies  looking  aghast. 
"  Silence,  sit  down  you  ! "  shrieked  the  well-known  voice  of  the 
General. 

"  I  beg  your  pardon.  General,"  said  young  John  Perkins ;  "  but 
where  could  you  have  bought  this  champagne  1  My  worthy  friend 
I  know  is  going  to  propose  the  ladies  ;  let  us  at  any  rate  drink  such 
a  toa-st  in  good  wine."  ("  Hear,  hear  !  ")  "  Drink  her  Ladyship's 
health  in  this  stuff?  I  declare  to  goodness  I  would  sooner  drink  it 
in  beer  ! " 

No  pen  can  describe  the  uproar  which  arose  :  the  anguish  of 
the  Gorgonites — the  shrieks,  jeers,  cheers,  ironic  cries  of  "  Swipes  !  " 
&c.,  which  proceeded  from  the  less  genteel  but  more  enthusiastic 
Scullyites. 

"This  vulgarity  is  too  much,"  said  Lady  Gorgon^  rising;  and 
Mrs.  Mayoress  and  the  ladies  of  the  party  did  so  too. 

The  General,  two  squires,  the  clergyman,  the  Gorgon  apothecary 
and  attorney,  with  their  respective  ladies,  followed  her :  they  were 
plainly  beaten  from  the  field.  Such  of  the  Tories  as  dared  remained, 
and  in  inglorious  compromise  shared  the  jovial  Whig  feast. 

"Gentlemen  and  ladies,"  hiccoughed  Mr.  Heeltap,  "I'll  give 
you  a  toast.  '  Champagne  to  our  real — hie — friends,'  no,  '  Real 
champagne  to  our  friends,'  and — hie — pooh  !  '  Champagne  to  our 
friends,  and  real  pain  to  our  enemies,' — huzzay  !  " 

The  Scully  faction  on  this  day  bore  the  victory  away,  and  if  the 
polite  reader  has  been  shocked  by  certain  vulgarities  on  the  part 
of  Mr.  Scully  and  his  friends,  he  must  remember  imprimis  that 
Oldborough  was  an  inconsiderable  place — that  the  inhabitants  thereof 
were  chiefly  tradespeftple,  not  of  refined  habits — that  Mr.  Scully 
himself  had  only  for  three  months  mingled  among  the  aristocracy — 
that  his  young  friend  Perkins  was  violently  angry — and  finally,  and 


THE    BEDFORD-ROW   CONSPIRACY  605 

to  conclude,  that  tlie  proud  vulgarity  of  the  great  Sir  George  Gorgon 
and  his  family  was  infinitely  more  odious  and  contemptible  than 
the  mean  vulgarity  of  the  Scullyites  and  their  leader. 

Immediately  after  this  event,  Mr.  Scully  and  his  young  friend 
Perkins  returned  to  town ;  the  latter  to  his  garrets  in  Bedford  Row 
— the  former  to  his  apartments  on  the  first  floor  of  the  same  house. 
He  lived  here  to  superintend  his  legal  business :  his  London  agents, 
Messrs.  Higgs,  Biggs,  and  Blatherwick,  occupying  the  ground  floor ; 
the  junior  partner,  Mr.  Gustavus  Blatherwick,  the  second  flat  of 
the  house.  Scully  made  no  secret  of  his  pi'ofession  or  residence  :  he 
was  an  attorney,  and  {)roud  of  it ;  he  was  the  grandson  of  a  labourer, 
and  thanked  God  for  it ;  he  had  made  his  fortune  by  his  own  honest 
labour,  and  why  should  he  be  ashamed  of  it  1 

And  now,  having  explained  at  full  leugtli  wdio  the  sevei-;d  heroes 
and  heroines  of  this  history  were,  and  how  they  conducted  tlu'm- 
selves  in  the  country,  let  us  describe  their  behaviour  in  London,  and 
the  great  events  which  occurred  there. 

You  must  know  that  Mr.  Perkins  bore  away  the  tenderest  re- 
collections of  the  young  lady  with  whom  he  had  danced  at  the 
Oldborough  ball,  and,  having  taken  ])articular  care  to  find  out  where 
she  dwelt  when  in  the  metropolis,  managed  soon  to  become  acquainted 
with  Aunt  Biggs,  and  made  himself  so  amiable  to  that  lady,  that 
she  begged  he  would  pass  all  his  disengaged  evenings  at  her  lodgings 
in  Caroline  Place.  Mrs.  Biggs  was  perfectly  aware  that  the  young 
gentleman  did  not  come  for  her  bohea  and  mulfins,  so  much  as  for 
the  sweeter  conversation  of  her  niece,  Miss  Gorgon  ;  but  seeing  that 
these  two  young  people  were  of  an  age  when  ideas  of  love  and 
marriage  will  spring  up,  do  what  you  will ;  seeing  that  her  niece 
had  a  fortune,  and  Mr.  Perkins  had  the  prospect  of  a  place,  and 
was  moreover  a  very  amiable  and  well-disposed  young  fellow,  she 
thought  her  niece  could  not  do  better  than  marry  him  ;  and  Miss 
Gorg'on  thought  so  too.  Now  the  public  will  be  able  to  understand 
the  meaning  of  that  important  conversation  which  is  recorded  at  the 
very  commencement  of  this  history. 

Lady  Gorgon  and  her  family  were  likewise  in  town  ;  but,  wlien 
in  the  metropolis,  they  never  took  notice  of  their  relative,  Miss 
Lucy:  the  idea  of  acknowledging  an  ex-schoolmistress  living  in 
Mecklenburgh  Square  being  much  too  preposterous  for  a  person  of 
my  Lady  Gorgon's  breeding  and  fashion.  She  did  not,  therefore, 
know  of  the  progress  which  sly  Perkins  was  making  all  this  while ; 
for  Lucy  Gorgon  did  not  think  it  was  at  all  necessary  to  inform  her 
Ladyship  how  deeply  she  was  smitten  by  the  wicked  young  gentle- 
man who  had  made  all  the  disturbance  at  the  Oldborough  ball. 

The   intimacy  of  these  young  persons  had,  in  fact,  become  so 


6o6  THE    BEDFORD-ROW   CONSPIRACY 

close,  that  on  a  certain  sunshiny  Sunday  in  December,  after  having 
accompanied  Aunt  Biggs  to  church,  they  had  pursued  their  walk 
as  far  as  that  rendezvous  of  lovers,  the  Regent's  Park,  and  were 
talking  of  their  coming  marriage,  with  much  confidential  tenderness, 
before  the  bears  in  the  Zoological  Gardens. 

Miss  Lucy  was  ever  and  anon  feeding  those  interesting  animals 
with  buns,  to  perform  which  act  of  charity  she  had  clambered  up 
on  tlie  parapet  wliich  surrounds  their  den.  Mr.  Perkins  was  below  ; 
and  Miss  Lucy,  having  distributed  her  buns,  was  on  the  point  of 
following, — but  whether  from  timidity,  or  whether  from  a  desire 
to  d(j  young  Perkins  an  essential  service,  I  know  not :  however, 
she  found  herself  quite  imwilling  to  jump  down  unaided. 

"  My  dearest  John,"  said  she,  "  I  never  can  jump  that." 

Whereujjon  John  stepped  up,  put  one  hand  round  Lucy's  waist ; 
and  as  one  of  hers  gently  fell  upon  his  shoulder,  Mr.  Perkins  took 
the  other  and  said — 

"  Now  jump." 

Hoop  !  jump  she  did,  and  so  excessively  active  and  clever  was 
Mr.  John  Perkins,  that  he  jumped  Miss  Lucy  plump  into  the  middle 
of  a  group  formed  of — 

Lady  Gorgon  ; 

The  Misses  Gorgon  ; 

Master  George  Augustus  Frederick  Grimsby  Gorgon  ; 

And  a  footman,  juiodle,  and  French  governess;  who  had  all 
been  for  two  or  three  minutes  listening  to  the  billings  and  cooings 
of  these  imprudent  young  lovers. 


CHAPTER    II 

SHOWS  HOJF  THE  PLOT  BEGAN   TO   THICKEN  IN  OR 
ABOUT  BEDFORD  ROIF 

MISS  Lucy  ! " 
"  Upon  my  word  !  " 
"  I'm  hanged  if  it  aren't  Lncy  !     How  do,  Lucy,"  uttered 
Lady,  the  Misses,  and  Master  Gorgon  in  a  lireath. 

Lucy  came  forward,  bending  down  her  ambrosial  curls,  and 
bhishing,  as  a  modest  young  woman  should :  for,  in  truth,  the 
scrape  was  very  awkward.  And  as  for  John  Perkins,  he  made  a 
start,  and  then  a  step  forwards,  and  then  two  backwards,  and  then 
began  laying  hands  upon  his  black  satin  stock — in  short,  the  sun  did 
not  shine  at  that  moment  upon  a  man  who  looked  so  exquisitely 
foolish. 

"Miss  Lucy  Gorgon,  is  your  aunt — is  Mrs.  Briggs  here?"  said 
Lady  Gorgon,  drawing  herself  uji  with  much  state. 

"Mrs.  Biggs,  auntV  said  Lucy  demurely. 

"  Biggs  or  Briggs,  madam,  it  is  not  of  the  slightest  consequence. 
I  presume  that  persons  in  my  rank  of  life  are  not  expected  to  know 
everybody's  name  in  Magdeburg  Square?"  (Lady  Gorgon  had  a 
house  in  Baker  Street,  and  a  dismal  house  it  was.)  ^''  Not  here," 
continued  she,  rightly  interpreting  Lucy's  silence,  "not  here? — and 
may  I  ask  how  long  is  it  that  young  ladies  have  been  allowed  to 
walk  abroad  without  chaperons,  and  to — to  take  a  part  in  such  scenes 
as  that  Avhich  we  have  just  seen  acted  1 " 

To  this  question — and  indeed  it  was  rather  difficult  to  answer — 
Miss  Gorgon  had  no  reply.  There  were  the  six  grey  eyes  of  her 
cousins  glowering  at  her ;  there  was  George  Augustus  Frederick 
examining  her  with  an  air  of  extreme  wonder.  Mademoiselle  the 
governess  turning  her  looks  demurely  away,  and  awful  Lady  Gorgon 
glancing  fiercely  at  her  in  front.  Not  mentioning  the  footman  and 
poodle,  what  could  a  poor  modest  timid  girl  plead  before  such  an 
inquisition,  especially  when  she  was  clearly  guilty  1  Add  to  this, 
that  as  Lady  Gorgon,  that  majestic  woman,  always  remarkable  for 
her  size  and  insolence  of  demeanour,  had  planted  herself  in  the 
middle  of  the  path,  and  spoke  at  the  extreme  pitch  of  her  voice, 


6o8  THE    BEDFORD-ROW   CONSPIRACY 

many  persons  walking  in  the  neighbourhood  had  heard  her  Lady- 
ship's si)eech  and  stopped,  and  seemed  disposed  to  await  the 
rejoinder. 

"  For  Heaven's  sake,  aunt,  don't  draw  a  crowd  around  us,"  said 
Lucy,  who,  indeed,  was  glad  of  the  only  escai)e  that  lay  in  her 
power.  "  I  will  tell  you  of  the — of  the  circumstances  of— of  my 
engagement  witli  this  gentleman — with  Mr.  Perkins,"  added  she,  in 
a  softer  tone — so  soft  that  the  'erkins  was  quite  inaudible. 

"A  Mr.  What?  An  engagement  without  consulting  your 
guardians  !  "  screamed  her  Ladyship.  "  This  nmst  be  looked  to  ! 
Jerningham,  caH  round  my  carnage.  Mademoiselle,  you  will  have 
the  goodness  to  walk  home  with  Master  Gorgon,  and  carry  him,  if 
you  please,  where  there  is  wet ;  and,  girls,  a.s  the  day  is  tine,  you 
will  <lo  likewise.  Jerniugham,  you  will  attend  the  young  ladies. 
Miss  Gorgon,  I  will  thank  you  to  follow  me  immediately."  And  so 
.saying,  and  looking  at  the  cnjwd  with  ineffable  scum,  and  at  Mr. 
Perkins  not  at  all,  the  lady  bustled  away  forwards,  the  tiles  of 
Gorgon  daughtere  antl  governess  closing  round  and  enveloping  poor 
Lucy,  who  found  herself  carried  forward  ag-.iinst  her  will,  and  in  a 
minute  seated  in  her  aunt's  coach,  along  with  that  tremendous 
l)ersou. 

Her  case  was  bail  enough,  but  what  wa.s  it  to  Perkins's?  Fancy 
his  Idank  siirprise  and  nige  at  having  his  love  thus  suddenly  ravished 
from  liini,  and  his  delicious  ti'tt-a-ti'te  interrupt«'d.  He  niaiiagetl,  in 
an  ineonceivably  short  spiu-e  of  time,  to  eonjure  up  half-a million 
obstacles  to  his  union.  What  should  he  do?  he  would  rush  on  to 
Baker  Street,  and  wait  khere  until  his  Lucy  left  Lady  Gorgon's 
house. 

He  could  lintl  no  vehicle  in  the  Regent's  Park,  and  was  in  con- 
sequence obliged  to  make  his  journey  on  foot..  Of  course,  he  nearly 
killed  himself  with  running,  and  ran  so  (|uick,  that  he  was  just  in 
time  to  .see  the  two  ladies  step  out  of  Lady  Gorgon's  carriage  at  her 
own  house,  and  to  hear  Jeniingham's  fellow-footman  roar  to  the 
Gorgonian  coachman,  '*  Half-jia.st  seven  !  "  at  which  hour,  we  are,  to 
this  day,  convinced  that  La<ly  Goriron  was  going  out  to  dine.  Mr. 
Jerningliams  a.ssociate  having  banged  to  the  door,  with  an  insolent 
look  towards  Perkins,  who  wjis  prying  in  with  the  most  suspicious 
and  indecent  curiosity,  retired,  exclaiming,  "  That  chap  luus  a  hi  to 
our  greatcoats,  I  reckon  !  "  and  left  John  Perkins  to  pace  the  street 
and  be  miserable. 

John  Perkins  then  walked  resolutely  up  and  down  dismal  Baker 
Street,  deterniined  on  an  cchjircisseuienf.  He  was  for  some  time 
occupied  in  thinking  how  it  was  that  the  Gorgons  were  not  at 
church,  they  who  made  such  a  parade  of  piety ;  and  John  Perkins 


THE    BEDFORD-ROW    CONSPIRACY  609 

smiled  as  he  passed  the  chapel^  and  saw  that  two  charifj/  senuoiiH 
were  to  be  preached  that  day — and  therefore  it  was  that  General 
Gorgon  read  prayers  to  his  fixmily  at  home  in  the  morning. 

Perkins,  at  last,  saw  that  little  General,  in  blue  frock-coat  and 
sjiotless  buff  gloves,  saunter  scowling  home  ;  and  half-an-hour  before 
his  arrival  had  witnessed  the  entrance  of  Jerningham,  and  the  three 
ga\uit  Miss  Gorgons,  poodle,  son-and-heir,  and  French  governess,  pro- 
tected by  him,  into  Sir  George's  mansion. 

"  Can  she  be  going  to  stay  all  night  1 "  mused  poor  John,  after 
being  on  the  watcli  for  three  hours:  "that  footman  is  the  only 
l)erson  who  has  left  the  house  :  "  when  presently,  to  his  inexpressible 
delight,  he  saw  a  very  dirty  hackney-coach  clatter  up  to  the  Gorgon 
door,  out  of  which  first  issued  the  ruby  plush  breeclies  and  stalwart 
calves  of  Mr.  Jeniingham ;  these  were  followed  by  his  body,  and 
then  the  gentleman,  ringing  modestly,  was  admitted. 

Again  the  door  opened :  a  lady  came  out,  nor  was  she  followed 
by  the  footman,  who  crossed  his  legs  at  the  door-post  and  allowed 
her  to  mount  the  jingling  vehicle  as  best  she  might.  Mr.  Jerning- 
ham had  witnessed  the  scene  in  the  Park  Gardens,  had  listened  to 
the  altercation  through  the  libi-ary  keyhole,  and  had  been  mighty 
sulky  at  being  ordered  to  call  a  coach  for  this  young  woman:  He 
did  not  therefore  deign  to  assist  her  to  mount. 

But  there  was  one  who  did  !  Perkins  was  by  the  side  of  his 
Lucy  :  he  had  seen  her  start  back  and  cry,  "  La,  John  !  " — had  felt 
her  squeeze  his  arm — had  mounted  with  her  into  the  coach,  and 
then  shouted  with  a  voice  of  thunder  to  the  coachman,  "  CaroHne 
Pkice,  Mecklenburgh  Square." 

But  Mr.  Jerningham  would  have  been  much  more  surprised  and 
puzzled  if  he  had  waited  one  minute  longer,  and  seen  this  Mr. 
Perkins,  Avho  had  so  gallantly  escaladed  the  hackney-coach,  step 
out  of  it  with  the  most  mortified,  miserable,  chapfallen  counte- 
nance possible. 

The  fact  is,  he  had  found  poor  Lucy  sobbing  fit  to  break  her 
heart,  and  instead  of  consoling  her,  as  he  expected,  he  only  seemed 
to  irritate  her  fui'ther  :  for  she  said,  "  Mr.  Perkins— I  beg— I  insist, 
that  you  leave  the  carriage."  And  when  Perkins  made  some  move- 
ment (which,  not  being  in  the  vehicle  at  the  time,  we  have  never 
been  able  to  comprehend),  she  suddenly  sprang  from  the  back-seat 
and  began  pulling  at  a  large  piece  of  cord  which  comnumicated  with 
the  wrist  of  the  gentleman  driving ;  and,  screaming  to  him  at  the 
top  of  her  voice,  bade  him  immediately  stop. 

This  Mr.  Coachman  did,  with  a  curious,  puzzled,  grinning  air. 

Perkins  descended,  and  on  being  asked,  "Vere  ham  I  to  drive 
the  voung  'oman,  sir  ? "  I  am  sorry  to  say  muttered  something  like 


6io  THE    BEDFORD-ROW    CONSPIRACY 

an  oatli,  and  uttered  the  above-mentioned  words,  "  Caroline  Place, 
Mecklenbiirgh  S<|nare,"  in  a  tone  which  I  should  be  inclined  to 
describe  as  both  dogged  and  sheepish — very  different  from  that 
cheery  voice  which  he  had  used  when  he  first  gave  the  order. 

Poor  Lucy,  in  the  course  of  those  fatal  three  hours  which  had 
passed  while  Mr.  Perkins  was  pacing  up  and  down  Baker  Street, 
had  received  a  lecture  which  lasted  exactly  one  hundred  and  eighty 
minutes — from  her  aunt  first,  then  from  her  uncle,  whom  we  have 
seen  marching  homewards,  and  often  from  both  together. 

Sir  (reorge  Gorgon  and  his  lady  poured  out  such  a  flood  of 
advice  and  abuse  against  the  poor  girl,  tliat  she  came  away  from 
the  interview  quite  timid  and  cowering ;  and  when  she  saw  John 
Perkins  (the  sly  rogue !  how  well  he  thought  he  had  managed 
the  trick  I)  she  shrank  from  him  as  if  he  had  been  a  demon  of 
wickedness,  ordered  him  out  of  the  carriage,  and  went  home  by 
herself,  convinced  that  she  had  committed  some  tremendous  sin. 

While,  then,  her  coach  jingled  away  to  Caroline  Place,  Perkins, 
once  more  alone,  bent  his  steps  in  tlie  same  direction.  A  desperate, 
heart-stricken  man,  he  passed  by  the  beloved's  door,  saw  lights  in 
the  front  drawing-room,  felt  probably  that  she  w;\.s  there  ;  but  he 
could  not  go  in.  Moodily  he  paced  down  Doughty  Street,  and 
turning  abruptly  into  Bedford  Row,  rusiied  into  his  own  chambers, 
where  Mrs.  Snooks,  the  laundress,  had  prepared  his  humble  Sabbath 
meal. 

A  cheerful  fire  ])lazed  in  his  garret,  and  Mrs.  Snooks  hail  pre- 
pared for  him  the  favourite  blade-bone  he  loved  (blest  foiu--days' 
dinner  for  a  bachelor — roast,  cold,  hashed,  grilled  blade-bone,  the 
fourth  being  better  than  the  first)  ;  but  although  he  usually  di<l 
rejoice  in  tliis  meal — ordinarily,  indeed,  grunil)ling  tliat  there  was 
not  enough  to  satisfy  him — he,  on  this  occasion,  after  two  mouthfuls, 
flung  down  his  knife  and  fork,  and  buried  his  two  claws  in  his  hair. 

"Snooks,''  said  he  at  la.st,  very  moodily,  "remove  this  d 

mutton,  give  me  my  writing  things,  and  some  hot  brandy-and-water." 

This  was  done  without  much  alarm  :  for  you  must  know  that 
Perkins  used  to  dablile  in  poetry,  and  ordinarily  prepared  himself 
for  composition  by  this  kind  of  stimulus. 

He  wrote  hastily  a  few  lines. 

"  Snooks,  put  on  your  bonnet,"  said  he,  "  and  carry  this — you 
l-nmv  irhere  !  "  he  added,  in  a  hollow,  heart-breaking  tone  of  voice, 
that  aff'ected  poor  Snooks  almost  to  tears.  She  went,  however,  with 
the  note,  which  was  to  this  purpose  : — 

"  Lucy  !  Lucy  !  my  soul's  love — what,  what  luus  happened  ?  I 
am   writing  this" — (a  gulj)  of  brandy-and-water) — "in  a  state 


THE    BEDFORD-ROW    CONSPIRACY  6ii 

bordering  on  distraction — madness— insanity  "  {another).  "Why- 
did  you  send  me  out  of  the  coach  in  that  cruel,  cruel  way  ?  Write 
to  me  a  word,  a  line — tell  me,  tell  me,  I  may  come  to  you — and 
leave  me  not  in  this  agonising  condition  ;  your  faithful  "  {glog—glog 
— glog  the  whole  glass) J.  p." 

He  never  signed  John  Perkins  in  full — he  couldn't,  it  was  so 
unromantic. 

Well,  this  missive  was  despatched  hy  Mrs.  Snooks,  and  Perkins, 
in  a  fearful  state  of  excitement,  haggard,  wild,  and  with  more 
brandy-and-water,  awaited  the  return  of  his  messenger. 

When  at  length,  after  about  an  absence  of  forty  years,  as  it 
seemed  to  him,  the  old  lady  returned  with  a  large  packet,  Perkins 
seized  it  with  a  trem]>ling  hand,  and  was  yet  more  frightened  to  see 
the  handwriting  of  Mrs.  or  Miss  Biggs. 

"My  dear  Mr.  Perkins,"  she  began — "Although  I  am  not 
your  soid's  adored,  I  performed  her  part  for  once,  since  I  have 
read  your  letter,  as  I  told  her.  You  need  not  be  very  much 
alarmed,  although  Lucy  is  at  this  moment  in  bed  and  unwell : 
for  the  poor  girl  has  had  a  sad  scene  at  her  grand  uncle's  house 
in  Baker  Street,  and  came  home  very  mucli  affected.  Rest, 
however,  will  restore  her,  for  she  is  not  one  of  your  nervous  sort ; 
and  I  hope  when  you  come  in  the  morning,  you  will  see  her  as 
blooming  as  she  was  when  you  went  out  to-day  on  that  unlucky 
walk. 

"  See  what  Sir  George  Gorgon  says  of  us  all !  You  won't 
challenge  him,  I  know,  as  he  is  to  be  your  uncle,  and  so  I  may 
show  you  his  letter. 

"  Good-night,  my  dear  John.  Do  not  go  quite  distracted  before 
morning ;  and  believe  me  your  loving  aunt,  Jemima.  Biggs." 

"  Baker  Street  :  Uth  December. 

"  Ma.tor-General  Sir  George  Gorgon  has  heard  with  the 
utmost  disgust  and  surprise  of  the  engagement  which  Miss  Lucy 
Gorgon  has  thought  fit  to  form. 

"The  Major-General  cannot  conceal  his  indignation  at  tlie  share 
which  Miss  Biggs  has  taken  in  this  disgraceful  transaction. 

"  Sir  George  Gorgon  i)uts  an  absolute  veto  upon  all  further 
communication  between  his  niece  and  tlie  low-born  adventurer  who 
had  been  admitted  into  her  society,  and  begs  to  say  that  Lieutenant 
Fitch,  of  the  Lifeguards,  is  the  gentleman  who  he  intends  shall 
marry  Miss  Gorgon. 


6i2  THE    BEDFORD  ROW   CONSPIRACY 

"  It  is  the  Major-General's  wish,  tiiat  on  the  28th  Miss  Gorgon 
should  be  ready  to  come  to  his  house,  in  Baker  Street,  where  she 
will  bo  more  safe  from  impertinent  intrusions  than  she  has  been  in 
Mucklebury  Square. 

"Mrs.  Biggs, 

"  Caroline  Place, 

" Mecklenhurgh  Square* 

"When  poor  John  Perkins  read  this  epistle,  blank  rage  and 
wonder  tilled  his  soul,  at  the  audacity  of  the  little  General,  who 
thus,  without  the  smallest  title  in  the  world,  pretended  to  dispose 
of  the  hand  and  fortune  of  his  niece.  Tlie  fact  is,  that  Sir  George 
had  such  a  transcendent  notion  of  liis  own  dignity  and  station,  that 
it  never  for  a  moment  entered  his  head  that  his  niece,  or  anybody 
else  connected  with  him,  should  take  a  single  step  in  life  without 
jircviously  receiving  his  orders  ;  and  Mr.  Fitch,  a  Itaronet's  son, 
having  expressed  an  admiration  of  Lucy,  Sir  George  had  iletcrmiiied 
that  his  suit  should  be  accepted,  and  really  considered  Lucy's 
preference  of  another  a.s  downright  treason. 

John  Perkins  determined  im  the  death  of  Fitch  as  the  very 
least  rej)aration  that  slmulil  satisfy  him  ;  antl  vowed  too  that  some 
of  the  General's  blood  shoidd  be  shed  for  the  words  which  he  had 
dared  to  utter. 

We  have  said  that  William  Pitt  Scully,  Esipiire,  M.P.,  occupied 
the  first  Hoor  of  jNIr.  Perkins's  liou.se  in  Bedford  Row  :  and  the 
reader  is  further  to  be  informed  that  an  immense  friendship  hafl 
sprung  u])  between  these  two  gentlemen.  Tiie  fact  is,  that  ])o(>r 
John  w;us  very  nmch  flattered  by  Scully's  notice,  and  began  in  a 
very  short  time  to  fancy  himself  a  political  personage ;  for  he  had 
miule  several  of  Scully's  speeches,  written  more  than  one  letter  from 
him  to  his  constituents,  and.  in  a  word,  acted  a.s  his  gnitis  clerk. 
At  leiist  a  guinea  a  w«'ek  diil  Mr.  Perkins  save  to  the  pockets  of 
Mr.  Scully,  and  with  hearty  goodwill  t(X),  for  he  a<lored  the  great 
William  Pitt,  and  believed  every  word  that  dropjtcd  from  the 
piiiMpous  li])s  of  that  gentleman. 

\Vcll,  after  having  discusse<l  Sir  George  Gorgon's  letter,  poor 
Perkins,  in  the  utmost  fury  of  mind  that  his  darling  should  be 
.slandered  so,  feeling  a  desire  for  fresh  air,  determined  to  descend  to 
the  garden  ami  smoke  a  cigar  in  that  rural  <iuiet  spot.  The  night 
was  very  calm.  The  moonbeams  slept  softly  \\\^n  the  herbage  of 
Gray's  Inn  gardens,  and  bathe<l  with  silver  splendour  Theobald's 
Row.  A  million  of  little  frisky  twinkling  stars  attended  their 
queen,  who  looked  with  bland  round  face  upon  their  gambols,  as 
they  peeped  in  and  out  from  the  azure  heavens.     Along  Gray's  Inn 


THE    BEDFORD-ROW   CONSPIRACY  613 

wall  a  lazy  row  of  cabs  stood  listlessly,  for  wlio  would  call  a  cab  on 
such  a  nights  Meanwhile  their  drivers,  at  the  alehouse  near, 
smoked  the  short  pipe  or  iiuafted  the  foaming  beer.  Perhai)s  from 
Gray's  Inn  Lane  some  broken  sounds  of  Irish  revelry  might  rise. 
Issuing  perhaps  from  Raymond  Buildings  gate,  six  lawyers'  clerks 
might  whooj)  a  ti])sy  song — or  the  loud  watchman  yell  tlie  passing 
hour ;  but  beyond  this  all  M'as  silence  ;  and  young  Perkins,  as  he 
sat  in  the  siunmer-house  at  the  bottom  of  the  garden,  and  contem- 
plated the  peaceful  heaven,  felt  some  influences  of  it  entering  into 
his  soul,  and  almost  forgetting  revenge,  thought  but  of  peace  and 
love. 

Presently,  he  was  aware  there  was  some  one  else  pacing  the 
garden.  Who  could  it  be? — Not  Blatherwick,  for  he  passed  the 
Sabbath  with  his  grandmamma  at  Clapham  ;  not  Scully  surely,  for 
he  always  went  to  Bethesda  Chapel,  and  to  a  select  prayer-meeting 
afterwards.  Alas  !  it  was  Scully  ;  for  though  that  gentleman  said 
•that  he  went  to  chapel,  we  liave  it  for  a  fact  that  he  did  not  always 
keep  his  ])romise,  and  was  at  this  moment  employed  in  rehearsing  an 
extem]tore  speech,  wliicli  he  projwsed  to  deliver  at  St.  Stephen's. 

"  Had  I,  sir,"  spouted  he,  with  folded  arms,  slowly  pacing  to 
and  fro — "  Had  I,  sir,  entertained  tlie  smallest  possil»]e  intention  of 
addressing  the  House  on  tlie  i)resent  occasion  — hum,  on  the  jnesent 
occasion — I  would  liave  endeavoured  to  prepare  myself  in  a  way 
that  .'should  have  at  least  shown  my  sense  of  tlie  greatness  of  the 
subject  before  the  House's  consideration,  and  the  nature  of  the 
distinguished  audience  I  have  tlie  honous.  to  address.  I  am,  sir,  a 
plain  man — born  of  the  jjcople — myself  one  of  the  people,  having 
won,  thank  Heaven,  an  honourable  fortune  and  ])osition  by  my  own 
honest  labom* ;  and  standing  here  as  I  do " 

•  •  -  •  .  •  • 

Here  Mr.  Scully  (it  may  be  said  that  he  never  made  a  speech 
without  bragging  about  himself:  and  an  excellent  i>lan  it  is,  for 
people  cannot  help  believing  you  at  last) — here,  I  say,  Mr.  Scully, 
who  had  one  arm  raised,  felt  himself  suddenly  tipped  on  the  shoulder, 
and  heard  a  voice  saying,  "  Your  money  or  your  life  !  " 

The  honourable  gentleman  twirled  round  as  if  he  had  been  shot ; 
the  papers  on  M'hicli  a  great  part  of  this  impromptu  was  written 
dropped  fi-om  liis  lifted  liand,  and  some  of  them  were  actually  borne 
on  the  air  into  neighbouring  gardens.  The  man  was,  in  fact,  in  the 
direst  fright. 

"  It's  only  I,"  said  Perkins,  with  rather  a  forced  laugh,  when  he 
saw  the  effect  that  his  wit  had  produced. 

"  Only  you  !     And   pray  what   the   dev what  right  have 

you  to — to  come  upon  a  man  of  my  rank  in  that  way,  and  disturb 


6i4  THE    BEDFORD-ROW    CONSPIRACY 

me  in  the  midst  of  very  important  meditations  ? "  asked  Mr.  Scully, 
beginning  to  grow  fierce. 

"  I  want  your  advice,"  said  Perkins,  "  on  a  matter  of  the  very 
greatest  imi)ortanee  to  me.     You  know  my  idea  of  marrying  I  " 

"  Marry  !  "  said  Scully ;  "I  thought  you  had  given  up  that  silly 
scheme.     And  how,  pray,  do  you  intend  to  live  ? " 

"Why,  my  intended  has  a  couple  of  luuidreds  a  year,  and  my 
clerkship  in  the  Tajjc  and  Sealing- Wax  Othcc  will  be  as  much 
more." 

"  Clerkship — Tape  and  Scaling-Wax  Office — Government  sine- 
cure ! — Why,  good  heavens  !  John  Perkins,  you  don't  tell  me  that 
you  are  going  \o  accept  any  such  thing  1 " 

"  It  is  a  very  small  salary,  certainly,"  said  John,  "who  had  a 
decent  notion  of  his  own  merits  ;  "but  consider,  six  months'  vaca- 
tion, two  hours  in  the  day,  and  those  spent  over  the  newspapers. 
After  aU,  it's " 

"  After  all,  it's  a  swindle,"  roared  out  I\Ir.  Scully — "  a  swindle 
upon  the  country  ;  an  infanioiLs  tax  upon  the  jteople,  who  starve  that 
you  may  fatten  in  idleness.  But  take  this  clerkship  in  the  Tape 
and  Sealing- Wax  Office,"  continued  the  patriot,  his  bosom  heaving 
with  noble  indiuniation,  and  his  eye  Hashing  the  purest  fire, — ^^  Take 
this  clerkship,  John  Perkins,  and  sanction  tyranny,  by  becoming 
one  of  its  agents ;  sanction  dishonesty  by  sharing  in  its  plunder — 
do  tins,  BUT  never  more  be  friend  of  mine.  Had  I  a  child,"  said 
the  patriot,  clasping  his  hands  and  raising  his  eyes  to  heaven,  "I 
would  rather  .see  him  ile^l,  sir  —dead,  dead  at  my  feet,  than  the 
servant  of  a  Govenunent  which  all  honest  men  despise."  And  here, 
giving  a  searching  glance  at  Perkins,  ]\Ir.  Scully  began  tramping  up 
and  ilown  the  ganlen  in  a  perfect  fury. 

"  Good  heavens  !  "  exclaimed  the  timid  John  Perkins — "  don't 
say  so.  My  dear  Mr.  Scully,  I'm  not  the  dishonest  character  you 
suppose  me  to  be — ^I  never  looked  at  the  matter  in  this  light.  I'll 
— Ill  consider  of  It.  Ill  tell  Cramiiton  that  I  will  give  up  the 
l)lace ;  but  for  Heaven's  sake,  don't  let  me  forfeit  your  friendship, 
which  is  dearer  to  me  than  any  i)la(e  in  the  world." 

Mr.  Scully  pressed  his  hand,  and  said  nothing  ;  and  though  their 
interview  lasted  a  lull  half-hour  longer,  during  which  they  paced  up 
and  down  the  gravel  walk,  we  shall  not  breathe  a  single  syllable  of 
their  conversation,  as  it  has  nothing  to  do  with  our  tale. 

The  next  morning,  after  an  interview  with  Miss  Lucy,  John 
Perkins,  Esquire,  was  seen  to  issue  from  Mrs.  Biggs's  house,  looking 
particularly  jiale,  melancholy,  and  thouirhtful  ;  and  he  did  not  stop 
until  he  reached  a  certain  door  in  Downing  Street,  where  was  the 


THE    BEDFORD-ROW   CONSPIRACY  615 

office  of  a  certain  great  Minister,  and  the  offices  of  the  clerks  in  his 
Lordship's  department. 

The  head  of  them  was  Mr.  Josiah  Crampton,  who  has  now  to 
be  introduced  to  the  public.  He  was  a  little  old  gentleman,  some 
sixty  years  of  age,  maternal  uncle  to  John  Perkins ;  a  bachelor,  ■who 
had  been  about  forty -two  years  employed  in  the  department  of  which 
he  was  now  the  head. 

After  waiting  four  hours  in  an  anteroom,  where  a  number  of 
Irishmen,  some  newspai)er  editors,  many  pompous-looking  political 
personages  asking  for  the  "first  lord,"  a  few  sauntering  clerks,  and 
numbers  of  swift  active  messengers  passed  to  and  fro  ; — after  waiting 
for  four  hours,  making  drawings  on  the  blotting-book,  and  reading 
the  Morning  Post  for  that  day  week,  Mr.  Perkins  was  informed 
that  he  might  go  into  his  uncle's  room,  and  did  so  accordingly. 

He  found  a  little  liard  old  gentleman  seated  at  a  table  covered 
with  every  variety  of  sealing-wax,  blotting-paper,  envelopes,  despatch- 
boxes,  green  tapers,  &c.  &c.  An  immense  fire  was  blazing  in  the 
grate,  an  immense  sheet-almanack  hung  over  tliat,  a  screen,  three  or 
four  chairs,  and  a  faded  Turkey  carpet,  formed  the  rest  of  the  furni- 
ture of  this  remarkable  room — which  I  have  described  thus  par- 
ticularly, because,  in  the  course  of  a  hjng  official  life,  I  have  remarked 
that  such  is  the  invariable  decoration  of  political  rooms. 

"Well,  John,"  said  the  little  hard  old  gentleman,  pointing  to 
an  arm-chair,  "  I'm  told  you've  been  here  since  eleven.  Why  the 
deuce  do  you  come  so  early  1 " 

"  I  had  important  business,"  answered  Mr.  Perkins  stoutly ; 
and  as  his  uncle  looked  up  with  a  comical  expression  of  wonder, 
John  began  in  a  solemn  tone  to  deliver  a  little  speech  which  he  had 
composed,  and  which  proved  him  to  be  a  very  worthy,  easy,  silly 
fellow. 

"  Sir,"  said  Mr.  Perkins,  "  you  have  known  for  some  time  past 
the  nature  of  my  political  opinions,  and  tlie  intimacy  which  I  have 
had  the  honovu-  to  form  with  one — with  some  of  the  leading  members 
of  the  Liberal  party."  (A  grin  fi-om  Mr.  Crampton.)  "When 
first,  by  your  kindness,  I  was  promised  the  clerkship  in  the  Tape 
and  Sealing-Wax  Office,  my  opinions  were  not  formed  as  they  are 
now ;  and  liaving  taken  the  advice  of  the  gentlemen  with  whom  I 
act" — (an  enormous  grin) — "the  advice,  I  say,  of  the  gentlemen 
with  whom  I  act,  and  the  counsel  likewise  of  my  o\Am  conscience,  I 
am  compelled,  with  the  deepest  grief,  to  say,  my  dear  uncle,  that 
I— I " 

"  That  you — what,  sir  1 "  exclaimed  little  Mr.  Crampton,  bounc- 
ing ofi"  his  chair.  "  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  are  such  a  fooj 
as  to  decline  the  place  1 " 


6i6  THE    BEDFORD-ROW   CONSPIRACY 

"  I  do  decline  the  place,"  said  Perkins,  whose  blood  rose  at  the 
word  "fool."     "As  a  man  of  honour,  I  cannot  take  it." 

"  Not  take  it !  and  how  are  you  to  live  1  On  the  rent  of  that 
house  of  yours  1  For,  by  gad,  sir,  if  you  give  up  the  clerkship,  I 
never  will  give  you  a  shilling." 

"  It  cannot  be  helped,"  said  Mr.  Perkins,  looking  as  much  like 
a  martyr  as  he  possibly  could,  and  thinking  himself  a  very  fine 
fellow.  '■'  I  have  talents,  sir,  which  I  hope  to  cultivate  ;  and  am 
member  of  a  profession  by  which  a  man  may  hope  to  rise  to  the 
very  highest  offices  of  the  State." 

"  Profession,  talents,  offices  of  the  State  !  Are  you  mad,  John 
Perkins,  that  you  come  to  me  with  such  insutierable  twaddle  as 
this  ?  Why,  do  you  think  if  you  had  been  capable  of  rising  at  the 
bar,  I  would  have  taken  so  much  trduble  about  getting  you  a  place? 
No,  sir  ;  you  are  tito  fond  of  pleasure,  and  bed,  and  tea-parties,  and 
small-talk,  and  rea<liug  novels,  and  i)laying  the  flute,  and  writing 
sonnets.  You  would  no  more  rise  at  the  bar  than  my  messenger, 
sir.  It  was  because  I  knew  your  dis])osition — that  hojielcss,  care- 
less, incsnlute  goud-huniuur  of  yours  that  I  had  determined  to 
keep  you  out  of  danger,  by  placing  you  in  a  snug  shelter,  where  the 
storms  of  the  M'orld  woidd  not  come  near  you.  You  umst  have 
l)riiiciples  forsooth  !  and  you  must  marry  Miss  (rorgon,  of  course  ; 
and  by  the  time  you  have  gone  ten  circuits,  and  had  six  children, 
you  will  have  eaten  up  every  shilling  of  your  wife's  fortune,  and  be 
as  briefless  as  you  arc  now.  Who  the  deuce  has  put  all  this 
nonsense  into  your  head?     I  think  I  know." 

Mr.  Perkins's  eurs  tingled  as  these  hard  words  saluted  them  ; 
and  he  scarcely  knew  whether  he  ought  to  knock  his  inicle  down,  or 
fall  at  his  feet  and  say,  "Uncle,  I  have  been  a  fool,  and  I  know  it." 
The  fact  is,  that  in  his  interview  with  Miss  Gorgon  and  her  aunt  in 
the  morning,  when  he  came  to  tell  them  of  the  resolution  he  had 
fornu'(l  to  give  up  the  place,  both  the  ladies  and  John  himself  had 
agreed,  with  a  thousand  ra|)turous  teai-s  and  e.Yclamations,  that  he 
was  one  of  the  nol)lest  young  men  that  ever  lived,  had  acted  as 
became  himself,  and  might  with  perfect  projiricty  give  up  the  place, 
his  talents  being  so  ])rodiLrious  that  no  i)ower  on  earth  could  hinder 
him  from  being  Lord  Chancellor.  Indeed,  John  and  Lucy  had 
always  thought  the  clerkship  quite  beneath  him,  and  were,  not  a 
little  glad,  jierhaps,  at  finding  a  pretext  for  decently  refusing  it. 
But  ;is  Perkins  was  a  young  gentleman  whose  candour  was  such 
that  he  was  always  swayed  by  the  opinions  of  the  last  speaker,  he 
did  liegin  to  feel  now  the  truth  of  his  uncle's  statements,  however 
disagreeable  they  might  be. 

Mr.  Cramptou  continued  : — 


THE    BEDFORD-ROW    CONSPIRACY  617 

"  I  think  I  know  the  cause  of  your  i)atrioti,sni.  Has  not  William 
Pitt  Scully,  Es([uire,  had  something  to  do  with  it  1 " 

Mr.  Perkins  could  not  turn  any  redder  than  he  was,  but  con- 
fessed with  deep  humiliation  that  "he  had  consulted  Mr.  Scully 
among  other  friends." 

Mr.  Crampton  smiled — drew  a  letter  from  a  heap  before  him, 
and  tearing  oft"  tlie  signature,  handed  over  the  document  to  his 
nej)hew.     It  contained  the  following  iiaragraphs  : — 

"  Hawksby  has  sounded  Scully  :  we  can  have  him  any  day  we 
want  him.  He  talks  very  big  at  present,  and  says  he  would  not 
take  anything  under  a  .  .  .  This  is  absurd.  He  has  a  Yorkshire 
nephew  coming  up  to  town,  and  wants  a  place  for  him.  There  is  one 
vacant  in  the  Tape  Oftice,  he  says  :  have  you  not  a  promise  of  it  ? " 

"  I  can't — I  can't  believe  it,"  said  John  ;  "  this,  sir,  is  some 
weak  invention  of  the  enemy.  Scully  is  the  most  honourable  man 
breathing." 

"  Mr.  Scully  is  a  gentleman  in  a  very  feir  way  to  make  a 
fortune,"  answered  Mr.  Crampton.  "  Look  you,  John — it  is  just 
as  well  for  your  sake  that  I  should  give  you  the  news  a  few  weeks 
before  the  papers,  for  I  don't  want  you  to  be  ruined,  if  I  can  help 
it,  as  I  don't  wish  to  have  you  on  my  hands.  We  know  all  tlie 
l)articulars  of  Scully's  history.  He  was  a  Tory  attorney  at  Oltb 
borough  ;  he  was  jilted  by  the  present  Lady  Gorgon,  turned  Radical, 
and  fought  Sir  George  in  his  own  borough.  Sir  George  would  have 
had  the  peerage  he  is  dying  for,  had  lie  not  lost  that  second  seat 
(by-the-bye,  my  Lady  Avill  be  here  in  five  minutes),  and  Scully  is 
now  quite  firm  there.  Well,  my  dear  lad,  we  have  bought  your 
incorruptible  Scully.  Look  here," — and  Mr.  Crampton  produced 
three  Morning  Posts. 

'"The  Honourable  Henry  Haw^ksby's  Dinner-Party. — 
Lord  So-an<l-So~Duke  of  So-and-So— W.  Pitt  Scully,  Esq.,  M.P.' 

"Hawksby  is  our  neutral,  our  dinner-giver. 

"'Lady  Diana  Doldrum's  Rout. — W.  Pitt  Scully,  Esq.,' 
again. 

" '  The  Earl  of  Mantrap's  Grand  Dinner.' — A  Duke — 
four  Lords — 'Mr.  Scully,  and  Sir  George  Gorgon.'" 

"  Well,  l:)ut  I  don't  see  how  you  have  bought  him ;  look  at  his 
votes." 


"  My  dear  John,"  said  Mr.  Crampton,  jingling  his  watch-seals 
very  complacently,   "  I  am   letting  you  into  fearful   secrets.     The 
great  common  end  of  party  is  to  buy  your  ojjponents — the  great 
statesman  buvs  them  for  nothing." 
2  Y 


6i8  THE    BEDFORD-ROW    CONSPIRACY 

I 

Here  the  attendant  genius  of  ^Ir.  Cranijjton  made  his  appear- 
ance, and  whispered  something,  to  which  the  little  gentleman  said, 
"  Shiiw  her  Ladyship  in," — when  the  attendant  disaj)peared. 

"John,"  said  Mr.  Crampton,  with  a  verj*  queer  smile,  "you 
can't  stay  in  this  room  while  Lady  Gorgon  is  with  me ;  but  there 
is  a  little  clerk's  room  behind  the  screen  there,  where  you  can  wait 
until  I  call  you." 

John  retired,  and  as  he  closed  the  door  of  communication, 
strange  to  say,  little  Mr.  Crampton  sprang  u])  and  said,  "  Confound 
the  young  ninny,  he  has  shut  the  door  !  " 

Mr.  Crampton  then,  remembering  that  he  wanted  a  maj)  in  the 
next  room,  sprang  into  it,  left  the  door  half  open  in  coming  out, 
and  was  in  time  to  receive  her  Ladyship  with  smiling  face  as  she. 
ushered  by  Mr.  Strongitharm,  majestically  sailed  in. 


CHAPTER  III 

BEHIND    THE    SCENES 

IN  issuing  from  and  leaving  open  the  door  of  the  inner  room,  Mr. 
Crampton  had  bestowed  upon  Mr.  Perkins  a  look  so  peculiarly 
arch,  that  even  he,  simple  as  he  was,  beyau  to  imagine  that  some 
mystery  was  about  to  be  cleared  uj),  or  some  mighty  matter  to  be 
discussed.  Presently  he  heard  tlie  well-known  voice  of  Lady  Gorgon 
in  conversation  with  his  uncle.  What  could  their  talk  be  about  l 
Mr.  Perkins  was  dying  to  know,  and — shall  we  say  it? — advanced 
to  the  door  on  tiptoe  and  listened  with  all  his  might. 

Her  Ladyship,  that  Juno  of  a  woman,  if  she  had  not  borrowed 
Venus's  girdle  to  render  herself  irresistible,  at  least  had  adopted 
a  tender,  coaxing,  wheedling,  frisky  tone,  (piite  different  from  her 
ordinary  dignified  style  of  conversation.  She  called  Mr.  Crampton 
a  naughty  man,  for  neglecting  his  old  friends,  vowed  that  Sir  George 
was  quite  hurt  at  his  not  coming  to  dine — nor  fixing  a  day  when  he 
would  come — and  added,  with  a  most  engaging  ogle,  that  she  had 
three  fine  girls  at  home,  who  would  i)erhaj)s  make  an  evening  pass 
pleasantly,  even  to  such  a  gay  bachelor  as  Mr.  Cram])ton. 

"  Madam,"  said  he,  with  much  gravity,  "  the  daughters  of  such 
a  mother  nuist  be  charming;  Init  I,  who  have  seen  your  Ladysiiip, 
am,  alas  !  jiroof  against  even  them." 

Both  parties  liere  licaved  tremendous  sighs  and  afi'ected  to  be 
wonderfully  unhappy  about  something. 

"  I  wish,"  after  a  pause,  said  Lady  Gorgon — "  I  wish,  dear  Mr. 
Crampton,  you  would  not  use  that  odious  title  '  my  Ladyshi]) ' :  you 
know  it  always  makes  me  melancholy." 

"  Melancholy,  my  dear  Lady  Gorgon  ;  and  why  1 " 

"  Because  it  makes  me  think  of  another  title  that  ought  to  have 
been  mine — ours  (I  speak  for  dear  Sir  George's  and  my  darling 
boy's  sake.  Heaven  knows,  not  mine).  AVhat  a  sad  disappointment 
it  has  been  to  my  husband,  that  after  all  his  services,  all  the 
promises  he  has  had,  they  have  never  given  him  his  peerage.  As 
for  me,  you  know " 

"  For  you,  my  dear  madam,  I  know  quite  well  that  you  care  for 
no  such  bauble  as  a*  coronet,  except  in  so  iar  as  it  may  confer  honour 


620  THE    BEDFORD-ROW   CONSPIRACY 

upon  those  most  dear  to  you — excellent  wife  and  noble  mother  as 
you  are.      Heigho  !  what  a  happy  man  is  Sir  George  !  " 

Here  there  was  another  pause,  and  if  i\Ir.  Perkins  could  have 
seen  wliat  was  taking  place  behind  the  screen,  he  would  have  beheld 
little  Mr.  Crampton  looking  into  Lady  Gorgon's  face,  with  as  love- 
sick a  Romeo-gaze  as  he  could  possibly  counterfeit ;  while  her 
Lady.shij),  blu.sliing  somewhat  and  turning  her  own  .grey  gogglers  uj» 
to  heaven,  received  all  his  words  for  gospel,  and  sat  fancying  herself 
to  be  tlie  best,  most  meritorious,  and  most  beautiful  creatiu-e  in  the 
three  kingdoms. 

"You  men  are  terrible  flatterers,"  continued  she;  "but  you  say 
right :  for  myself  I  value  not  these  empty  distinctions.  I  am  grow- 
ing old,  Mr.  Crampton, — yes,  indeed,  I  am,  altliough  you  smile  so 
incredulously, — and  let  me  add,  that  m)/  tlioughts  are  fixed  upon 
higher  things  than  earthly  crowns.  But  tell  me,  you  who  are  all  in  all 
with  Lord  Bagwig,  are  we  never  to  have  our  peei-age  ?  His  Majesty, 
I  know,  is  not  averse ;  tlio  services  of  dear  Sir  George  to  a  member 
of  His  Majesty's  august  family,  I  know,  have  been  appreciated  in 
the  highest  quarter.  Ever  since  the  peace  we  have  had  a  promise. 
Four  hiuidred  pounds  has  Sir  George  spent  at  tlie  Heralds'  Office  (I 
myself  am  of  one  of  the  most  ancient  families  in  the  kingdom,  Mr. 
Crampton),  and  the  i)oor  dear  man's  health  is  really  ruined  by  the 
anxious  sickening  feeling  of  hope  so  long  delayed." 

Mr.  Crampton  now  assumed  an  air  of  nuich  solenuiity. 

"  My  dear  Lady  Gorgon,"  said  lie,  "  will  you  let  me  be  frank 
with  you,  and  will  you  promise  solemnly  that  what  I  am  going  to 
tell  you  sliall  never  be  repeated  to  a'  single  soul  1 " 

Lady  Gorgon  ])romised. 

"  Well,  then,  since  tlie  truth  you  nuist  know,  you  yourselves 
have  been  in  part  the  cause  of  the  delay  of  which  you  complain. 
You  gave  us  two  votes  five  years  ago  :  you  now  only  give  us  one. 
If  Sir  George  were  to  go  up  to  the  Peers,  we  should  lose  even  that 
one  vote ;  and  wouKl  it  be  common  sense  in  us  to  incur  such  a  loss  ? 
Mr.  Scully,  the  Liberal,  would  return  another  Member  of  his  own 
way  of  thinking;  and  as  for  the  Li^rds,  we  have,  you  know,  a 
majority  there." 

"Oh,  that  horrid  man!"  said  Lady  Gorgon,  cursing  Mr.  Scully  in 
her  heart,  and  beginning  to  play  a  rapid  tattoo  with  her  feet,  "  that 
miscreant,  that  traitor,  that — that  attorney  has  been  our  ruin." 

"  Horrid  man,  if  you  please,  but  give  me  leave  to  tell  you  that 
the  horrid  man  is  not  the  sole  cause  of  your  ruin — if  ruin  you  will 
call  it.  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  I  do  candidly  tliiidc  ^linisters  believe 
that  Sir  George  Gorgon  has  lost  his  influence  in  (^Idborough  as  much 
through  his  own  fault  as  through  Mr.  Scully's  cleverness." 


THE    BEDFORD-ROW   CONSPIRACY  621. 

"  Our  own  fault !  Good  heavens  !  Have  we  not  done  every- 
thing— everytliiug  that  persons  of  our  station  in  the  county  could 
do,  to  keep  those  misguided  men  1  Have  we  not  remonstrated, 
threatened,  taken  away  our  custom  from  the  Mayor,  established  a 
Conservative  ajiothecary — in  fact,  done  all  that  gentlemen  could  do  ? 
But  these  are  such  times,  Mr.  Crampton  :  the  spirit  of  revolution  is 
abroad,  and  the  great  families  of  England  are  menaced  by  democratic 
insolence." 

This  was  Sir  George  Gorgon's  speech  always  after  dinner,  and 
was  delivered  by  his  lady  with  a  great  deal  of  stateliness.  Some- 
what, perhaps,  to  her  annoyance,  Mr.  Crampton  only  smiled,  shook 
his  head,  and  said — 

"  Nonsense,  my  dear  Lady  Gorgon — pardon  the  phrase,  but  I 
am  a  plain  old  man,  and  call  things  by  their  names.  Now,  will  you 
let  me  whisper  in  your  ear  one  Avord  of  truth  1  You  have  tried  all 
sorts  of  remonstrances,  and  exerted  yourself  to  maintain  your  in- 
fluence in  evei-y  way,  except  the  right  one,  and  that  is " 

"  What,  in  Heaven's  name  1 " 

"  Conciliation.  We  know  your  situation  in  the  borough.  Mr. 
Scully's  whole  history,  and,  pardon  me  for  saying  so  (but  we  men  in 
office  know  everything),  yours — —  " 

Lady  Gorgcnvs  ears  and  cheeks  now  assumed  the  hottest  hue  of 
crimson.  She  thought  of  her  former  passages  with  Scully,  and  of  the 
days  when — but  never  mind  when :  for  she  sutlered  her  veil  to  fall, 
and  buried  her  head  in  the  folds  of  her  handkerchief.  Vain  folds  ! 
The  wily  little  Mr.  Crampton  could  see  all  that  passed  behind  the 
cambric,  and  continued — 

"  Yes,  madam,  we  know  the  absurd  hopes  that  were  formed  by 
a  certain  attorney  twenty  years  since.     We  know  how,  up  to  this 

moment,  he  boasts  of  certain  walks " 

"  With  the  governess — we  were  always  with  the  governess  ! " 
shrieked  out  Lady  Gorgon,  clasping  her  hands.  "  She  was  not  the 
wisest  of  women." 

"With  the  governess,  of  course,"  said  Mr.  Crampton  firmly. 
"Do  you  suppose  that  any  man  dare  breathe  a  syllable  against 
your  spotless  reputation  ?  Never,  my  dear  madam  ;  but  what  I 
would  urge  is  this — you  have  treated  your  disappointed  admirer 
too  cruelly." 

"  AVhat !  the  traitor  who  has  robbed  us  of  our  rights?" 
"  He  never  would  have  robbed  you  of  your  rights  if  you,  had 
been  more  kind  to  him.     You  should  be  gentle,  madam  ;  you  should 
forgive  him — you  should  be  friends  with  him." 
"  With  a  traitor,  never  !  " 
"  Think  what  made  him  a  traitor,  Lady  Gorgon ;  look  in  your 


622  THE    BEDFORD-ROW    CONSPIRACY 

glass,  and  say  if  there  be  not  some  excuse  for  him  1  Think  of  the 
feelings  of  the  man  who  saw  beauty  such  as  yours — I  am  a  plain  man 
and  must  speak — virtue  such  as  yours,  in  the  i)ossession  of  a  rival. 
By  heavens,  madam,  I  think  he  was  right  to  hate  Sir  George  Gorgon ! 
Would  you  have  him  allow  such  a  prize  to  be  ravished  from  him 
without  a  pang  on  his  part  ? " 

"  He  was,  I  believe,  very  much  attached  to  me,"  said  Lady 
Gorgon,  quite  delighted;  "but  you  nuist  be  aware  that  a  young 
man  of  his  station  in  life  could  not  look  up  to  a  person  of  my  rank." 

"Surely  not:  it  was  monstrous  ])ride  and  arrogance  in  Mr. 
Scully.  But  que  voulez-vous  ?  Such  is  the  world's  way.  Scully 
could  not  help  loving  you — who  that  knows  you  can?  I  am  a 
plain  man,  and  say  what  I  think.  He  loves  you  still.  Why  make 
nn  enemy  of  him,  wlio  would  at  a  word  be  at  your  feet  ?  Dearest 
Lady  Gorgon,  listen  to  me.  Sir  George  Gorgon  and  Mr.  Scully 
have  already  met — their  meeting  was  our  contrivance.  It  is  for 
our  interest,  for  yours,  that  they  should  be  friends.  If  there  were 
two  Ministerial  Members  for  Oldliorough,  do  you  think  your  hus- 
band's peerage  would  be  less  secure  1  I  am  not  at  lil)eity  to  tell 
you  all  I  know  on  this  subject ;  Init  do,  I  entreat  you,  be  recouciletl 
to  him." 

And  after  a  little  more  conversation,  whidi  was  carried  on  by 
Mr.  Crampton  in  the  same  tender  way,  this  important  interview 
closed,  and  Lady  Gorgon,  folding  lier  shawl  round  her,  threaded 
ciTtain  mysterious  pa.ssatjes  and  found  her  wav  to  her  carriage  in 
Whitehall! 

"I  hope  you  have  not  l>een  listening,  you  rogue?"  .said  Mr. 
Cramjjton  to  his  nephew,  who  l)lushed  most  altsurdly  by  way  of 
answer.  "  You  would  have  heard  great  State  secrets,  if  you  had 
dared  to  do  .so.  That  woman  is  perpetually  liere,  and  if  peerages 
are  to  be  had  for  the  asking,  she  ought  to  have  been  a  duchess  by 
this  time.  I  would  not  have  admitted  her  but  for  a  reason  that  I 
have.  Go  yoii  now  and  ponder  ujtou  what  you  have  heard  and  seen. 
Be  on  good  terms  with  Sculh',  and,  above  all,  speak  not  a  word  con- 
cerning our  interview — no,  not  a  word  even  to  your  mistress.  By 
the  way,  I  presume,  sir,  you  will  recall  your  resignation  1 " 

The  bewildered  Perkins  was  about  to  stammer  out  a  speech, 
Avhen  his  imcle,  cutting  it  short,  i)ushed  him  gently  out  of  the  door. 

At  the  })criod  when  the  important  events  occurred  which  have 
been  recorded  here,  j)arties  ran  very  high,  and  a  mighty  struggle 
for  the  vacant  Speakership  was  about  to  come  on.  The  Right 
Honourable  Robert  Pinchcr  was  the  Ministerial  candidate,  and  Sir 
Charles    Macabaw  was   jiatronised    by    the   Opjxisition.       The   two 


THE    BEDFORD-ROW   CONSPIRACY  623 

Members  for  Oldboroiigh  of  course  took  different  sides,  the  baronet 
being  of  the  Pincher  faction,  while  Mr.  WiUiani  Pitt  Scully  strongly 
supported  the  Macabaw  party. 

It  was  Mr.  Scully's  intention  to  deliver  an  impromptu  sjjeech 
upon  the  occasion  of  the  election,  and  lie  and  his  faithful  Perkins 
])repared  it  between  tliem  :  foi-  tlie  latter  gentleman  had  wisely  kept 
his  uncle's  counsel  and  liis  own,  and  Mr.  Scully  was  (juite  ignorant 
of  the  conspiracy  that  was  brooding.  Indeed,  so  artfully  had  that 
young  Machiavel  of  a  Perkins  conducted  himself,  that  when  asked 
by  his  patron  whether  he  had  given  up  his  ])lace  in  the  Tape  "and 
Sealing- Wax  Office,  he  replied  that  "  he  had  tendered  his  resigna- 
tion," but  did  not  say  one  word  about  ha\iug  recalled  it. 

"  You  were  right,  my  boy,  quite  right,"  said  Mr.  Scully.  "  A 
man  of  uncompromising  principles  should  make  no  compromise." 
And  herewith  he  sat  down  and  wrote  off  a  couple  of  letters,  one 
to  Mr.  Hawksby,  telling  him  that  the  place  in  the  Sealing-Wax 
Office  was,  as  he  had  reason  to  know,  vacant ;  and  the  other  to 
his  nephew,  stating  that  it  was  to  be  his.  "Under  the  rose,  my 
dear  Bob,"  added  Mr.  Scully,  "  it  will  cost  you  five  hundred  pounds  ; 
but  you  cannot  invest  your  money  better." 

It  is  needless  to  state  that  the  afi'air  was  to  be  conducted  "  with 
the  strictest  secrecy  and  honour,"  and  that  the  money  was  to  pass 
through  Mr.  Scully's  hands. 

While,  however,  the  great  Pincher  and  Macabaw  question  was 
yet  undecided,  an  event  occurred  to  Mr.  Scully,  which  had  a  great 
influence  upon  his  after-life.  A  second  grand  ban(iuet  was  given 
at  the  Earl  of  Mantrap's  :  Lady  Mantrap  re(iuested  him  to  conduct 
Lady  Gorgon  to  dinner  ;  and  the  latter,  with  a  charming  timidity, 
and  a  gracious  melancholy  look  into  his  face  (after  which  her  veined 
•eyelids  veiled  her  azure  eyes),  put  her  hand  into  the  trembling  one 
of  Mr.  Scully  and  said,  as  much  as  looks  could  say,  "  Forgive  and 
forget." 

Down  went  Scully  to  dinner.  There  were  dukes  on  his  right 
hand  and  earls  on  his  left ;  there  were  but  two  persons  without  title 
m  the  midst  of  that  glittering  assemblage  ;  the  very  servants  looked 
like  noblemen.  The  cook  had  done  wonders  ;  the  wines  Avere  cool 
and  rich,  and  Lady  Gorgon  was  splendid  !  What  attention  did 
everybody  pay  to  her  and  to  him  !  Why  ivould  she  go  on  gazing 
into  his  face  with  that  tender  imploring  look?  In  other  words, 
Scully,  after  partaking  of  soup  and  fish  (he,  during  their  discus- 
sion, had  been  thinking  over  all  the  former  love-and-hate  pas.-^ages 
between  himself  and  Lady  Gorgon),  turned  very  red,  and  began 
talking  to  her. 

"Were  you  not  at  the  opera  on  Tuesday?"  began  he,  assuming 


624  THE    BEDFORD-ROW   CONSPIRACY 

at  once  the  airs  of  a  man  of  fashion.     "  I  thought  I  caught  a  glimpse 
of  you  in  the  Duchess  of  Diddlebury's  box." 

"  Opera,  Mr.  Scully  ?  "  (pronoimcing  the  word  "  Scully  "  with 
the  utmost  softness).  "  Ah,  no  !  we  seldom  go,  and  yet  too  often. 
For  serious  persons  the  enchantments  of  that  place  are  too  dangerous. 
I  am  so  nervous — so  delicate ;  the  smallest  trifle  so  agitates,  de- 
presses, or  irritates  me,  that  I  dare  not  yield  myself  up  to  tlic 
excitement  of  nuisic.  I  am  too  passionately  attached  to  it ;  and, 
shall  I  tell  you  ?  it  has  such  a  strange  influence  upon  me,  that  the 
smallest  false  note  almost  drives  me  to  distraction,  and  for  that  very 
reason  I  hardly  ever  go  to  a  concert  or  a  ball." 

"  Egad,"  thought  Scully,  "  I  recollect  when  she  would  dance 
doAvn  a  matter  of  fivc-an(l-forty  couple,  and  jingle  away  at  the 
*  Battle  of  Pra.gue  '  all  day." 

She  continued  :  "  Don't  you  recollect,  I  do,  with — oh,  what 
regret  ! — that  day  at  Oldlxtrough  race-ball,  when  I  behaved  with 
such  sad  rudeness  to  you  ?  You  will  scarcely  believe  me,  and  yet  I 
assure  you  'tis  the  fact,  the  uuisic  liad  made  me  almost  mad.  Do 
let  me  ask  your  pardon  for  my  conduct.  I  was  not  myself.  Oh, 
Mr.  Scully  !  I  am  no  worldly  woman  ;  I  know  my  duties,  and  I 
feel  my  wrongs.  Nights  and  days  have  I  lain  awake  weejiing  and 
thinking  of  tliat  unhappy  day — that  I  slioidd  ever  speak  so  to  an 
old  friend  ;  for  we  ivere  old  friends,  were  we  not  1 " 

Scully  did  not  speak ;  but  his  eyes  were  bursting  out  of  his 
head,  and  his  face  was  the  exact  colour  of  a  deputy-lieutenant's 
uniform. 

"  Tliat  I  sliould  ever  forget  myself  and  you  so  i  How  I  have 
been  longing  for  tliis  o]iportunity  to  ask  you  to  forgive  m.e !  I  asked 
Lady  Mantrap,  when  I  lieard  you  were  to  be  here,  to  invite  me  to 
her  party.  Come,  I  know  you  will  forgive  me — your  eyes  say  you 
will.  You  used  to  look  so  in  old  days,  and  forgive  me  my  caprices 
then.  Do  give  me  a  little  wine — we  will  drink  to  the  memory  of 
old  days." 

Her  eyes  filled  with  teai-s  ;  and  poor  Scully's  hand  caused  such 
a  rattling  and  trembling  of  the  glass  and  the  ilecanter  that  the  Duke 
of  Doldrum — who  had  been,  during  the  course  of  this  whisjjfred 
sentimentality,  describing  a  famous  run  with  the  Queen's  hounds  at 
the  top  of  his  voice — stopped  at  the  jingling  of  the  glass,  and  his 
tale  was  lost  for  ever.  Scully  liastily  drank  his  wine,  and  Lady 
Gorgon  turned  round  to  her  next  neighbom-,  a  little  gentleman  in 
black,  between  whom  and  herself  certain  conscious  looks  passed. 

"  I  am  glad  poor  Sir  George  is  not  here,"  said  he,  sjuiling. 

Lady  Gorgon  said,  "  Pooli,  for  shame  !  "  Tlie  little  gentleman 
was  no  other  tlian  Josiah  Crampton,  Esquire,  that  eminent  financier. 


THE    BEDFORD-ROW   CONSPIRACY  625 

and  he  was  now  going  through  the  curious  calcuhition  before  men- 
tioned, by  which  you  buy  a  man  for  nothing.  He  intended  to  pay 
the  very  same  price  for  Sir  George  Gorgon,  too ;  but  there  was  no 
need  to  tell  the  baronet  so ;  only  of  this  the  reader  must  be  made 
aware. 

While  Mr.  Crampton  was  conducting  this  intrigue,  wliicli  was 
to  bring  a  new  recruit  to  tlie  Ministerial  ranks,  his  mighty  sjjirit 
condescended  to  ponder  upon  subjects  of  iniinitely  less  importance, 
and  to  arrange  plans  for  the  welfare  of  his  n('i)hew  and  tlie  young 
woman  to  whom  he  had  made  a  ])resent  of  liis  heart.  These  young 
persons,  as  we  said  before,  had  arranged  to  live  in  Mr.  Perkins's  own 
house  in  Bedford  Row.  It  was  of  a  peculiar  construction,  and 
might  more  properly  be  called  a  house  and  a  half:  for  a  snug  little 
tenement  of  four  chambers  protruded  from  the  back  of  the  house 
into  the  garden.  These  rooms  communicated  with  the  drawing- 
rooms  occupied  by  Mr.  Scully  \  and  Perkins,  who  acted  as  liis  friend 
and  secretary,  used  frequently  to  sit  in  the  one  nearest  the  ]\Iembei-'s 
study,  in  order  that  he  might  be  close  at  hand  to  confer  with  that 
great  man.  The  rooms  had  a  private  entrance  too,  were  newly 
decorated,  and  in  them  the  young  couple  proposed  to  live ;  the 
kitchen  and  garrets  being  theirs  likewise.  Wliat  more  could  they 
need  %  We  are  obliged  to  be  particular  in  describing  these  apart- 
ments, for  extraordinary  events  occurred  therein. 

To  say  the  truth,  until  the  present  period  Mr.  CJrampton  liad 
taken  no  great  interest  in  his  nephew's  marriage,  or,  intleed,  in  the 
young  man  himself.  The  old  gentleman  was  of* a  saturnine  turn, 
and  inclined  to  imdervalue  the  qualities  of  Mr.  Perkins,  which  were 
idleness,  simplicity,  enthusiasm,  and  easy  good-nature. 

"  Such  fellows  never  do  anything  in  the  world,"  he  would  say, 
and  for  such  he  had  accordingly  the  most  profound  contempt.  But 
when,  after  John  Perkins's  repeated  entreaties,  he  had  been  induced 
to  make  the  acquaintance  of  Miss  Gorgon,  he  became  instantly 
charmed  with  her,  and  warmly  espoused  her  cause  against  her  over- 
bearing relations. 

At  his  suggestion  she  wrote  back  to  decline  Sir  George  Gorgon's 
peremptory  invitation,  and  hinted  at  the  same  time  that  she  had 
attained  an  age  and  a  position  which  enabled  her  to  be  the  mistress 
of  her  own  actions.  To  tliis  letter  there  came  an  answer  from  Lady 
Gorgon  which  we  shall  not  copy,  but  which  simply  stated  that  I\Iiss 
Lucy  Gorgon's  conduct  was  unchristian,  ungrateful,  unladylike,  and 
immodest ;  that  the  Gorgon  family  disowned  her  for  the  future,  and 
left  her  at  liberty  to  form  whatever  base  connections  she  pleaseil. 

"  A  pretty  world  this ! "  said  Mr.  Cranii)ton,  in  a  great  rage, 
when   the  letter  was  shown  to  him.      "  This  same  fellow,  Scully, 


626  THE    BEDFORD-ROW   CONSPIRACY 

dissuades  my  nephew  from  taking  a  place,  because  Scully  wants 
it  for  himself  This  prude  of  a  Lady  Gorgon  cries  out  shame,  and 
disowns  an  innocent  amiable  girl :  she  a  heartless  jilt  herself  once, 
and  a  lieartless  flirt  now.  The  Pharisees,  the  Pharisees  !  And 
to  call  mine  a  base  family,  too  !  " 

Now,  Lady  Gorgon  did  not  in  tlie  least  know  Mr.  Crampton's 
connection  with  Mr.  Perkins,  or  she  would  have  been  much  more 
guarded  in  her  language  ;  but  whether  she  knew  it  or  not,  the  old 
gentleman  felt  a  huge  indignation,  and  determined  to  have  his 
revenge. 

"  That's  right,  uncle  !  Shall  I  call  Gorgon  out  1 "  said  the 
impetuous  young  Perkins,  who  was  all  for  blood. 

"  Jolm,  you  are  a  fool,"  said  liis  uncle.  "You  shall  have  a 
better  revenge  :  you  shall  be  married  from  Sir  George  Gorgon's 
house,  and  you  shall  see  Mr.  William  Pitt  Scully  sold  for  nothing. "^ 
This  to  the  veteran  dijilomatist  seemed  to  be  tlie  highest  triumph 
which  man  could  possibly  enjoy. 

It  was  very  soon  to  take  place :  and,  as  has  been  the  case  ever 
since  the  world  began,  woman,  lovely  woman  was  to  be  the  cause 
of  Scully's  foil.  The  tender  scene  at  Lord  Mantrap's  was  followed 
by  many  otliers  ecpially  sentimental.  Sir  George  Gorgon  called 
upon  his  colleague  the  very  next  day,  and  brought  with  him  a  card 
from  Lady  Gorgon  inviting  Mr.  Scully  to  dinner.  The  attorney 
eagerly  accejited  the  in^^tation,  was  received  in  Baker  Street  by 
the  wliole  amiable  foniily  with  much  respectful  cordiality,  and  was 
pressed  to  rejieat  liis  visits  as  country  neiglibours  should.  More 
than  once  did  he  call,  and  somehow  always  at  the  hour  when  Sir 
George  was  away  at  his  club,  or  riding  in  the  Park,  or  elsewhere 
engaged.  Sir  George  Gorgon  was  very  old,  very  feeble,  very  much 
shattered  in  constitution.  Lady  Gorgon  used  to  impart  her  fears  to 
Mr.  Scully  every  time  he  called  there,  and  the  sympathising  attorney 
used  to  console  her  as  best  lie  mig])t.  Sir  George's  country  agent 
neglected  the  property — his  lady  consulted  Mr.  Scully  concerning  it. 
He  knew  to  a  fraction  how  large  her  jointure  was  :  how  she  was  ta 
liave  Gorgon  Castle  for  her  life  •  and  how,  in  tlie  event  of  the  young 
baronet's  death  (he,  too,  was  a  sickly  poor  boy),  the  chief  part  of 
the  estates,  bought  by  lier  money,  woTild  be  at  her  absolute  disposal. 

"  What  a  pity  these  odious  politics  prevent  me  from  ha^ing  you 
for  our  agent !  "  would  Lady  Gorgon  say ;  and  indeed  Scully  thouglit 
it  was  a  pity  too.  Ambitious  Scully  !  what  wild  notions  filled  his 
brain.  He  used  to  take  leave  of  Lady  Gorgon  and  ruminate  upon 
these  tilings ;  and  wlien  he  was  gone,  Sir  George  and  lier  Ladyship 
used  to  laugh. 

"  If  Me  can  but  commit  him— if  we  can  but  make  him  vote  for 


THK    Iif:DFOKD-ROW    CONSPIRACY  627 

Pinchcr,"  said  the  Genera),  "  my  peerage  in  secure.     Hawkiiby  and 
Crarnpton  as  good  as  told  me  so." 

Tli<;  jfoirjt  had  been  urged  upon  Mr.  Scully  repeatedly  and  arlroitly. 
"Is  not  PJnc-her  a  more  experienced  man  than  Ma<:abaw';"  would 
Sir  George  say  to  his  guest  over  their  wine.  Scully  allowed  it. 
"  Can't  you  vote  for  him  on  personal  groun<ls,  and  say  so  in  the 
House  ?  "  Scully  wished  he  could  how  he  wished  he  could  !  Every 
time  the  General  coughed,  Scully  saw  his  friend's  desperate  situation 
more  and  more,  and  thought  how  jileasant  it  would  be  to  be  lord  of 
Gorgon  Castle.  "  Knowing  my  pnjperty,"  cried  Sir  George,  "  ;ts  you 
do,  and  witli  your  talents  and  int(;grity,  what  a  comfort  it  would  te 
WJiiM  I  leave  you  as  guardian  to  my  boy  :  But  these  cursed  politics 
prevent  it,  my  dear  fellow.  Why  m7^  you  be  a  Radical?"  And 
Scully  cursed  jjolitics  too.  "Hang  tlie  low-bred  rogue,"  added  Sir 
Gwrge,  when  William  I'itt  Scully  left  the  house  :  "  he  will  do  every- 
thing but  promise." 

"  My  dear  General,"  said  Lady  Gorgon,  sidling  uj)  to  him  and 
letting  him  on  his  old  yellow  cheek — "  My  dear  Georgy,  tell  me  one 
thing, — are  you  jealous? " 

"  .Jealous,  my  dear  !  and  jealous  of  fJuxt  fellow — pshaw  !  " 

"  Well,  then,  give  me  leave,  and  you  shall  have  the  promise 
to-uiorrow.' 

To-morrow  arrived.  Tt  was  a  remarkably  fine  day,  and  in  the 
forenoon  Mr.  Perkins  gave  his  acciLstomed  knock  at  Scully's  study, 
which  was  only  separated  from  his  own  sitting-room  by  a  double 
door.  John  had  wisely  followed  his  uncle's  advice,  and  was  on  the 
best  terms  with  tlie  honourable  Member. 

"Here  are  a  few  Hcnterices,"  said  he,  "which  1  think  may  suit 
your  piirj-o-i-.  (;n:i\  puhlir  services — undeniable  merit — years  of 
integrity  cause  ot  Relorm,  and  Macabaw  for  ever  !  "  He  put  down 
the  paper.     It  was,  in  fact,  a  speet^h  in  favour  of  Mr.  Macabaw. 

"Hush,"  said  Scully,  rather  surlily;  for  he  was  thinking  how 
disagreeable  it  was  to  support  Macabaw;  and  besides,  there  were 
clerks  in  the  room,  whom  the  thoughtless  Perkins  had  not  at  first 
perceived.  As  soon  as  that  gentleman  saw  them,  "  You  are  busy, 
I  see,"  continued  he  in  a  lower  tone.  "  I  came  to  say  that  I  must 
be  off  duty  to-day,  for  I  am  engaged  to  take  a  walk  with  some  ladies 
of  my  acMjuaintance." 

So  saying,  the  light-hearted  young  man  ]jlaced  his  hat  uncere- 
moniously on  his  head,  and  went  off  through  his  own  door,  humming 
a  song.  He  was  in  such  high  spirits  that  lie  did  Jiot  even  think  of 
closing  the  doors  of  connjiunication,  and  Scully  looked  after  him  with 
a  sneer. 


628  THE    BEDFORD-ROW   CONSPIRACY 

"  Ladies,  forsooth  !  "  thought  he  ;  "  I  know  wlio  they  are.  This 
precious  girl  that  he  is  fooling  with,  for  one,  I  supjiose."  He  was 
right :  Perkins  was  oil'  on  the  wings  of  love,  to  see  ^liss  Lucy  ;  and 
she  and  Aunt  Biggs  and  Uncle  Crampton  had  i)ronii.sed  this  very 
day  to. come  and  look  at  the  apartments  which  ]\Irs.  John  Perkins 
was  to  occupy  with  her  happy  husband. 

"  Poor  de\al ! "  so  continued  Mr.  Scully's  meditations,  "  it  is 
almost  too  bad  to  do  him  out  of  his  place  ;  but  my  Bob  Avants  it, 
and  John's  girl  has,  I  hear,  seven  thousand  pounds.  His  undo  will 
get  liiiu  auotlier  place  before  all  that  money  is  sj»ent."  And  liere- 
with  Mr.  Scully  began  conning  the  speech  which  Perkins  had  made 
for  him. 

He  had  not  read  it  more  than  si.\  times, — in  trutli,  lie  was 
getting  it  by  heart, — when  his  head  clerk  came  to  him  from  the 
front  room,  bearing  a  card :  a  footman  had  brought  it,  who  Siiid  his 
lady  was  waiting  below.  Lady  Gorgon's  name  was  on  the  card  !  To 
seize  his  hat  and  rush  downstairs  was,  witli  Mr.  Scnlly,  the  work  of 
an  infinitesimal  portion  of  time. 

It  was  indeed  Lady  Gorgon  in  her  Gorgnnian  chariot. 

"Mr.  Scully,"  said  she,  po]ij)ing  her  head  out  of  winilow  and 
smiling  in  a  most  engaging  way,  ''  I  want  to  sjK-ak  to  you  on 
something  very  particular  indeed'' — and  slie  held  liiiii  nut  her  hand. 
Scully  pressed  it  most  tenderly:  he  hoped  all  heads  in  Pn-dford  Ruw 
were  at  the  windows  to  see  him.  "  I  can't  a.sk  ynu  into  the  carriage, 
for  you  see  the  governess  is  with  me,  and  I  want  to  talk  secrets 
to  you." 

"  Shall  I  go  and  make  a  little  promenade'?"  said  mademoiselle 
innocently.     And  her  mistress  hiited  her  for  that  siM-cch. 

"  No.  Mr.  Scully,  I  am  sure,  will  let  me  come  in  for  five 
minutes  ? " 

Mr.  Scully  was  only  too  happy.  My  Lady  descended  and  walked 
upstairs,  leaning  on  the  happy  solicitt)r's  arm.  But  how  slmuld  he 
manage?  The  front  njom  was  consecrated  to  clerks;  there  were 
clerks  too,  as  ill-luck  WduM  have  it,  in  his  private  roum.  "  Perkitm 
is  out  for  the  day,"  thought  Scully  ;  "  I  will  t;ike  her  into  his 
room."  And  into  Perkins's  room  he  took  her— ay,  and  he  shut  the 
double  doors  after  him  too,  and  trenililed  as  he  thought  of  his  own 
happiness. 

"What  a  charming  little  study!"  said  Lady  (Jorgon,  seiiting 
herself  And  indeed  it  was  very  pretty  :  for  Perkins  had  furnished 
it  beautifully,  and  laid  out  a  neat  tray  with  cakes,  a  cold  fowl,  and 
sherry,  to  entertain  his  i)arty  withal.  "And  do  you  bachelors  always 
live  so  welU"  continued  she,  pointing  to  the  little  cold  collation.  ' 

Mr.  Scully  looked  rather  blank  when  he  saw  it,  and  a  drea<lful 


THE    BEDFORD-ROW    CONSPIRACY  629 

suspicion  crossed  his  soul ;  but  there  was  no  need  to  trouLle  Lady 
Gorgon  with  ex[)Ianations :  therefore,  at  once,  and  with  much 
presence  of  mind,  he  asked  her  to  partake  of  his  bachelor's  fare  (she 
would  refuse  Mr.  Scidly  nothing  that  day).  A  pretty  sight  would 
it  have  been  for  young  Perkins  to  see  strangers  so  unceremoniously 
devouring  his  feast.  She  drank — Mr.  Scully  drank — and  si)  em- 
boldened was  he  by  the  draught  that  he  actually  seated  himself  by 
the  side  of  Lady  Gorgon  on  John  Perkins's  new  sofa. 

Her  Ladyship  had  of  course  something  to  say  to  him.  She  was 
a  pious  woman,  and  had  suddenly  conceived  a  violent  wish  for 
building  a  chapel-of-ease  at  Oldborough,  to  which  she  entreated 
him  to  subscribe.  She  enlarged  u])on  the  benefits  that  the  town 
would  derive  from  it,  spoke  of  Sunday-schools,  sweet  spiritual 
instruction,  and  the  duty  of  all  Avell-minded  persons  to  give  aid  to 
the  scheme. 

"  I  will  subscribe  a  hundred  ])ounds,"  said  Scully,  at  the  end  of 
her  La(lysiiip",s  harangue  :   "  would  I  not  do  anytliing  ft)r  you  ?  " 

"  Thank  you,  thank  you,  dear  Mr.  Scully,"  said  the  enthusiastic 
woman.  (How  the  "  dear  "  went  burning  through  his  soul !)  "  Ah !" 
added  she,  "  if  you  would  but  do  anything  for  me — if  you,  Avho  are 
so  eminently,  so  truly  distinguished,  in  a  religious  point  of  view, 
would  but  see  the  truth  in  politics  too ;  and  if  I  could  see  your 
name  among  those  of  tlie  true  i)atriot  party  in  this  empire,  how 
blest — oh  !  how  blest  should  I  be  !  Poor  Sir  George  often  says  he 
should  go  to  his  gi-ave  happy,  could  he  but  see  you  the  guardian  of 
his  boy ;  and  I,  your  old  friend  (for  we  were  friends,  "William),  how 
have  I  wept  to  think  of  you  as  one  of  those  who  are  bringing  our 
monarchy  to  ruin.  Do,  do  i)romis(;  me  this  too  ! "  And  she  took 
his  hand  and  pressed  it  between  hers. 

The  heart  of  William  Pitt  Scully,  during  this  speech,  was  thump- 
ing up  and  down  with  a  frightful  velocity  and  strength.  His  old  love, 
the  agency  of  the  Gorgon  i)roperty — the  dear  widow- — five  tliousand 
a  year  clear — a  thousand  delicious  hopes  rushed  madly  through  his 
brain,  and  almost  took  away  his  reason.  And  there  slie  sat — she,  the 
loved  one,  pressing  his  hand  and  looking  softly  into  his  eyes. 

Down,  down  he  plumped  on  his  knees. 

"  Juliana  !  "  shrieked  he,  "  don't  take  away  your  hand  !  My 
love — my  only  love  I — speak  but  those  blessed  words  again  !  Call 
me  William  once  more,  and  do  with  me  what  you  will." 

Juliana  cast  down  her  eyes  and  said,  in  the  very  smallest  type — 

"  William  ! " 

— when  the  door  opened,  and  in  walked  Mr.  Crampton,  leading  Mrs. 
Biggs,  who  could  hardly  contain  herself  for  laughing,  and  Mr.  John 


630  THE    BEDFORD-ROW   CONSPIRACY 

Perkins,  who  was  squeezing  the  arm  of  Miss  Lucy.  They  had  heard 
every  word  of  the  two  last  speeches. 

For  at  the  very  moment  when  Lady  Gojgon  had  stopped  at 
Mr.  Scully's  door,  the  four  above-named  individuals  had  issued  from 
Oreat  James  Street  into  Bedford  Row. 

Lucy  cried  out  that  it  was  lier  aunt's  carriage,  and  they  all  saw 
Mr.  Scully  come  out,  bareheaded,  in  the  sunshine,  and  my  Lady 
descend,  and  tlie  pair  go  into  the  house.  They  meanwhile  entered 
by  Mr.  Perkins's  own  private  door,  and  had  been  occupied  in  ex- 
amining the  delightful  rooms  on  the  ground  floor,  which  were  to  be 
his  dining-room  and  library — from  which  they  ascended  a  stair  to 
visit  the  other  two  rooms,  which  were  to  form  Mrs.  John  Perkins's 
drawing-room  and  bedroom.  Now  whether  it  wa.s  that  they  trod 
softly,  or  that  the  stairs  were  covered  with  a  grand  new  carpet  and 
drugget,  as  was  the  case,  or  that  the  party  within  were  too  much 
occupied  in  themselves  to  heed  any  outwanl  disturbances,  I  know 
not ;  but  Lucy,  who  was  advancing  with  John  (he  was  .saying  some- 
thing about  one  of  the  apartments,  the  mgue  I) — Lucy  suddenly 
started  and  whispered,  "  There  is  somebody  in  the  rooms  ! "  and  at 
that  instant  began  the  sjjcech  already  reported,  "  Thank  i/ou,  thank 
you,  dear  Mr.  Sndly"  &c.  &c.,  which  was  delivered  by  Lady 
Gorgon  in  a  full  clear  voice;  for,  to  do  her  Ladyship  justice,  ahe  had 
not  one  single  grain  of  love  for  Mr.  Scully,  and,  during  the  delivery 
of  her  little  oration,  was  as  cool  as  the  coolest  cucunibor. 

Then  began  tlu;  imj)assioned  rejoinder,  to  which  the  four  listened 
on  the  landing-place ;  and  then  the  little  "  Witiiam"  as  narrated 
above  :  at  which  juncture  Mr.  Crampton  thought  proper  to  rattle  at 
the  door,  and,  after  a  brief  pause,  to  enter  with  his  party. 

"  William  "  had  had  time  to  bounce  ofl"  his  knees,  and  was  on  a 
chair  at  the  other  end  of  the  room. 

"  What,  Lady  Gorgon ! "  said  I\Ir.  Crami)ton,  with  excellent 
surprise,  "  how  delighted  I  am  to  see  you  !  Always,  I  .see,  emi»loyed 
in  works  of  charity  "  (the  chapel-of-ease  paper  was  on  her  knees), 
"and  on  such  an  occasion,  too,  —  it  is  rejilly  the  most  won- 
derful coincidence  !  My  dear  madam,  hero  is  a  silly  fellow,  a 
nephew  of  mine,  who  is  going  to  marry  a  silly  girl,  a  niece  of  your 
own." 

"  Sir,  I "  began  Lady  Gorgon,  rising. 

"  They  heard  every  word,"  whispered  Mr.  Crampton  eagerly. 
"Come  forward,  Mr.  Perkins,  and  show  yourself"  Mr.  Perkins 
made  a  genteel  bow.  "  Miss  Lucy,  please  to  shake  hands  with  your 
aunt ;  and  this,  my  dear  madam,  is  Mrs.  Biggs  of  Mecklenburgh 
Square,  who,  if  she  were  not  too  old,  might  marry  a  gentleman  in 
the  Treasury,  who  is  your  very  humble  ser^-ant."     And  with  this 


THE    BEDFORD-ROW   CONSPIRACY  631 

gallant    speech,    old    Mr.    Cramptou   began    helping   everybody    to 
sherry  and  cake. 

As  for  William  Pitt  Scully,  he  had  disappeared,  evaporated,  in 
the  most  absurd  sneaking  way  imaginable.  Lady  Gorgon  made 
good  her  retreat  presently,  with  much  dignity,  her  countenance 
undismayed,  and  her  face  turned  resolutely  to  the  foe. 

•  •  •  •  • 

About  five  days  afterwards,  that  memorable  contest  took  place 
in  the  House  of  Commons,  in  which  the  partisans  of  Mr.  Macabaw 
were  so  very  nearly  getting  him  the  Speakership.  On  the  day  that 
the  report  of  the  debate  appeared  in  the  Times,  there  appeared  also 
an  announcement  in  the  Gazette  as  follows  : — 

"  The  King  has  been  pleased  to  appoint  John  Perkins,  Esquire, 
to  be  Deputy-Subcomptrollcr  of  His  Majesty's  Tape  Office  and 
Custos  of  the  Sealing-Wax  Department." 

Mr.  Crampton  showed  this  to  his  nephew  with  great  glee,  and 
was  chuckling  to  think  how  Mr.  William  Pitt  Scully  would  be 
annoyed,  who  had  expected  the  place,  when  Perkins  burst  out  laugh- 
ing and  said,  "  By  heavens,  here  is  my  own  speech  !  Scully  lias 
spoken  every  word  of  it ;  he  has  only  put  in  Mr.  Pincher's  name 
in  the  place  of  Mr.  Macabaw's." 

"He  is  ours  now,"  responded  his  uncle,  "and  I  told  you 
we  7('ould  have  him  for  nothing.  I  told  you,  too,  that  you 
should  be  married  from  Sir  George  Gorgon's,  and  here  is  proof 
of  it." 

It  was  a  letter  from  Lady  Gorgon,  in  which  she  said  that,  "had 
she  known  Mr.  Perkhis  to  V)e  a  nephew  of  her  friend  Mr.  Crampton, 
she  never  for  a  moment  would  have  opposed  lils  marriage  with 
her  niece,  and  she  had  written  that  morning  to  her  dear  Lucy, 
begging  that  the  marriage  breakfast  should  take  place  in  Baker 
Street." 

"It  shall  be  in  Mecklenburgh  Square,"  said  John  Perkins 
stoutly ;  and  in  Mecklenburgh  S(]uare  it  was. 

William  Pitt  Scully,  Esquire,  was,  as  Mr.  Crampton  said, 
hugely  annoyed  at  the  loss  of  the  place  for  his  nephew.  He  had 
still,  however,  his  hopes  to  look  forward  to,  but  these  were  unluckily 
dashed  by  the  coming  in  of  the  Whigs.  As  for  Sir  George  Gorgon, 
when  he  came  to  ask  about  his  peerage,  Hawksby  told  him  that 
they  could  not  afford  to  lose  him  in  the  Commons,  for  a  Liberal 
Member  would  infallibly  fill  his  place. 

And  now  that  the  Tories  are  out  and  the  Whigs  are  in,  strange 


632 


THE    BEDFORD-ROW   CONSPIRACY 


to  say  a  Liberal  does  fill  his  place.  Thi.s  Lilxral  is  no  other 
than  Sir  George  Gorgon  himself,  wlio  is  still  longing  to  lie  a  lord 
and  his  lady  is  still  devout  and  intriguing.  So  that  the  Meiubers 
for  Oldborough  have  changed  sides,  and  taunt  each  other  with 
apostasy,  and  hate  each  other  cordially.  Mr.  Cnunjiton  still 
chuckles  over  the  manner  in  which  he  tricked  them  lv>th.  and  talks 
of  those  five  minutes  during  which  he  stood  on  the  lamling-place 
and  hatched  and  executed  his  "  Bedford-Row  Conspiracy." 


i 


GOING    TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED 


GOING  TO  SEE  A  MAN  HANGED 

July  1840 


,  who  had  voted  with  Mr.  Ewaxt  for  the  abolition  of  the 

punishment  of  death,  was  anxious  to  see  the  eftect  on  the 
public  mind  of  an  execution,  and  asked  me  to  accompany 
him  to  see  Courvoisier  killed.  We  had  not  the  advantage  of  a 
sheriff's  order,  like  the  "  six  hundred  noblemen  and  gentlemen  "  who 
were  admitted  within  the  walls  of  the  prison ;  but  determined  to 
mingle  with  the  crowd  at  the  foot  of  the  scaffold,  and  take  up  our 
positions  at  a  very  early  hour. 

As  I  was  to  rise  at  three  in  the  morning,  I  went  to  bed  at  ten, 
thinking  that  five  hours'  shop  would  be  amply  sufficient  to  brace 
me  against  the  fatigues  of  the  coming  day.  But,  as  might  have 
been  expected,  the  event  of  tlie  morrow  was  perpetually  before  my 
eyes  through  the  night,  and  kept  them  wide  open.  I  heard  all  the 
clocks  in  the  neighl)ourhood  chime  tlie  liours  in  succession ;  a  dog 
from  some  court  hard  by  kept  up  a  pitiful  howling  ;  at  one  o'clock, 
a  cock  set  up  a  feeble  melancholy  crowing ;  shortly  after  two  the 
daylight  came  peeping  grey  through  the  window-shutters ;  and  by 

the  time  that  X arrived,  in  fulfilment  of  his  promise,  I  had 

been  asleep  about  half-an-liour.  He,  more  wise,  had  not  gone  to 
rest  at  all,  but  had  remained  up  all  night  at  the  Club  along  with 
Dash  and  two  or  tliree  more.  Dash  is  one  of  the  most  eminent 
wits  in  London,  and  had  kept  the  company  merry  all  night  with 
appropriate  jokes  about  the  coming  event.  It  is  curious  that  a 
murder  is  a  great  inspirer  of  jokes.  We  all  like  to  laugh  and  have 
our  fling  about  it ;  there  is  a  certain  grim  pleasure  in  the  circum- 
stance— a  perpetual  jingling  antithesis  between  life  and  death,  that 
is  sure  of  its  effect. 

In  mansion  or  garret,  on  down  or  straw,  siu-rounded  by  weeping 
friends  and  solemn  oily  doctors,  or  tossing  unheeded  upon  scanty 
hospital  beds,  there  were  many  people  in  this  great  city  to  whom 
that  Sunday  night  was  to  be  the  last  of  any  that  they  should  pass 


636  GOIXG    TO    SEE    A    MAX    HANGED 

on  earth  here.  In  the  course  of  half-a-dozen  (hirk  wakeful  hours, 
one  had  leisure  to  think  of  these  (and  a  little,  too,  of  that  certain 
supreme  ni,i,dit,  that  shall  come  at  one  time  or  other,  when  he  -nho 
■writes  shall  be  stretched  upon  the  last  bed,  prostrate  in  the  last 
struggle,  taking  the  last  look  of  dear  faces  that  have  cheered  us 
here,  and  lingering — one  moment  more— "ere  we  jiart  for  the 
tremendous  journey) ;  but,  chiefly,  I  coiUd  not  help  tliinking,  as 
each  clock  sounded,  what  is  he  doing  now?  has  Ae  heard  it  in  his 
little  room  in  Newgate  yonder?  Eleven  o'clock.  He  has  Itcen 
writing  until  now.  The  gaoler  says  he  is  a  pleasant  man  enough 
to  be  with  ;  but  he  can  hold  out  no  longer,  and  is  very  weary. 
"Wake  me  at  four,"  says  he,  "for  I  have  still  much  to  jiut  down." 
From  eleven  to  twelve  the  gaoler  hears  how  he  is  grinding  liis  teeth 
in  his  sleep.  At  twelve  he  is  up  in  his  bed  and  asks,  "  Is  it  the 
time?"  He  has  i)lenty  more  time  yet  for  sleep;  and  he  sleeps, 
and  the  bell  goes  on  tolling.  Seven  hours  more — five  hours  more. 
Manv  a  carriage  is  clattering  through  the  streets,  bringing  ladies 
away  from  evening  parties ;  many  bachelors  arc  reeling  home  after 
a  jolly  niglit ;  Covent  Garden  is  alive ;  and  the  light  coming 
through  the  cell-window  turns  the  gaoler's  candle  j)alc.  Four  hours 
more!  "Courvoisier,"  says  tlie  gaoler,  shaking  him,  "it's  four 
o'clock  now,  and  I've  woke  you  as  you  told  me ;  but  there's  no 
call  for  you  to  (jet  up  yet."  The  jtoor  wretch  leaves  his  lied,  how- 
ever, and  makes  his  last  toilet;  and  tlu-n  falls  to  writing,  to  ti'U 
the  world  how  he  did  the  crime  for  which  lie  has  sutfored.  This 
time  he  w'ill  tell  the  truth  and  the  whole  truth.  They  bring  liin) 
his  breakfast  "from  tlie  cotfoe-shop  opjKtsite — tea,  coff"ee,  and  thin 
bread  and  butter."  lie  will  take  milling,  however,  but  goes  on 
writing.  He  has  to  write  to  his  mother — the  i)ioiis  mother  far 
away  in  his  own  country — who  reared  liim  ami  loved  him;  and 
even  now  has  sent  him  her  forgiveness  and  her  blessing.  He 
finishes  his  memorials  and  letters,  and  makes  his  will,  disposing 
of  his  little  miserable  projierty  of  l)ooks  and  tracts  that  pious 
people  have  furnished  him  witiu  "  Cc  H  Juillet  1840.  Fnim-ois 
Benjamin  Courvoisier  vous  donne  ceci,  moii  ami,  pour  souvenir."' 
He  has  a  token  for  his  dear  friend  the  gaoler ;  another  for  his 
dear  friend  tlie  under-sherifF.  As  the  day  of  the  convict's  death 
draws  nigh,  it  is  jjainful  to  see  how  he  fastens  uj)on  everybody 
who  approaches  him,  how  pitifully  he  clings  to  them  and  loves 
them. 

While  these  things  are  going  on  within  the  jirison  (with  whici; 
we  are  made  accurately  accpiainted   by  the  copious   clironides   of 

such  events  which  are   published   subsequently),  X 's  carriage 

has  driven  up  to  tlie  door  of  my  lodgings,  and  we  have  partaken 


GOING    TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED  637 

of  an  elegant  dejeuner  tluit  has  been  prepared  for  the  Dccasion.  A 
cup  of  coffee  at   half-past   three  in   the   morning  is  nncoinmonly 

pleasant ;  and  X enlivens  us  with  the  repetition  of  the  jokes 

that  Dash  has  just  been  making.  Admirable,  certainly — they  must 
have  had  a  merry  night  of  it,  that's  clear ;  and  we  stoutly  debate 
whetlier,  when  one  has  to  get  up  so  early  in  the  morning,  it  is  best 
to  have  an  hour  or  two  of  sleep,  or  wait  and  go  to  bed  afterwards 
at  the  end  of  the  day's  work.  That  fowl  is  extraordinarily  tough — 
the  wing,  even,  is  as  hard  as  a  board ;  a  slight  disappointment,  for 
there  is  nothing  else  for  breakfast.  "  Will  any  gentleman  have 
some  sherry  and  soda-water  before  he  sets  out  1  It  clears  the  brains 
famously."  Thus  ])rimed,  the  jiarty  sets  out.  The  coachman  has 
dropped  asleep  on  the  box,  and  wakes  up  wildly  as  the  hall-door 
opens.     It  is  just  four  o'clock.      About  this  very  time  they  are 

waking  up  poor — pshaw!  who  is  for  a  cigar?     X does  not 

smoke  himself;  but  vows  and  ])rotests,  in  the  kindest  way  in  the 
world,    that   he  does  not  care  in  the   least  for  the  new  drab-silk 

linings  in  his  carriage.     Z ,  who  smokes,  mounts,  however,  tlie 

box.  "Drive  to  Snow  Hill,"  says  the  owner  of  the  chariot.  The 
policemen,  who  are  the  only  people  in  the  street,  and  are  standing 
by,  look  knowing — they  know  what  it  means  well  enough. 

How  cool  and  clean  tlie  streets  look,  as  the  carriage  startles  the 
echoes  that  have  been  asleep  in  the  corners  all  night.  ScMuebody 
has  been  sweeping  the  pavements  clean  in  the  night-time  surely  ; 
they  would  not  soil  a  lady's  white  satin  shoes,  they  are  so  dry  and 

neat.     There  is  not  a  cloud  or  a  breath  in  the  air,  except  Z 's 

cigar,  which  whirt's  off,  and  soars  straight  upwards  in  volumes  of 
white  i)ure  smoke.  The  trees  in  tlie  scjuares  look  bright  and  gi-een 
— as  bright  as  leaves  in  the  country  in  June.  We  who  keep  late 
hours  don't  know  the  beauty  of  London  air  and  verdure  ;  in  the 
early  morning  they  are  delightful — the  most  fresh  and  lively  com- 
panions possible.  But  they  capnot  bear  the  crowd  and  the  bustle 
of  mid-day.  You  don't  know  them  then — they  are  uq  longer  the 
same  things.  We  have  come  to  Gray's  Inn  ;  there  is  actually  dew 
upon  the  grass  in  the  gardens ;  and  the  windows  of  the  stout  old 
red  houses  are  all  in  a  flame. 

As  we  enter  Holborn  the  town  grows  more  animated  ;  and  there 
are  already  twice  as  many  people  in  the  streets  as  you  see  at  nud- 
day  in  a  German  Residenz  or  an  English  provincial  town.  The 
ginshop  keepers  have  many  of  them  taken  their  shutters  down,  and 
many  j)ersons  are  issuing  from  them  pipe  in  hand.  Down  they  go 
along  the  broad  bright  street,  their  blue  shadows  marching  after 
them  ;  for  they  are  all  bound  the  same  way,  and  are  bent  like  us 
upon  seeing  the  hanging. 


638  GOING    TO    SEE    A    MAX    HANGED 

It  is  twenty  minutes  past  four  as  we  pass  St.  Sepulchre's :  by 
this  tune  many  hundred  people  are  in  the  street,  and  many  more 
are  coming  up  Snow  Hill.  Before  us  lies  Newgate  Prison;  but 
something  a  great  deal  more  awful  to  look  at,  which  seizes  the  eye 
at  once,  and  makes  the  heart  beat,  is 


There  it  stands  black  and  ready,  jutting  out  from  a  little  door 
in  the  prison.  As  you  see  it,  you  feel  a  kind  of  dumb  electric 
shock,  which  causes  one  to  start  a  little,  and  give  a  sort  of  g;i.sp  lor 
breath.  The  shock  is  over  in  a  second  ;  and  presently  you  examine 
the  object  before  you  with  a  certain  feeling  of  complacent  curiosity. 
At  least,  such  wa.s  the  effect  tliat  tlie  gallows  iiroducod  upon  the 
writer,  who  is  trying  to  set  d(jwu  all  his  iV-clings  a«  they  occurred, 
and  not  to  exaggerate  them  at  all. 

After  the  gallows-shock  had  subsided,  we  went  down  into  tlie 
crowd,  which  was  very  numerous,  but  not  dense  as  yet.  It  was 
evident  that  the  day's  business  had  not  begun.  People  sauntcretl 
up,  and  formed  groups,  and  talked ;  the  new-comers  asking  those 
who  seemed  habitues  of  the  ])lace  about  former  executions  ;  and  did 
the  victim  hang  with  his  face  towards  the  cl(»ck  or  towards  Ludgate 
Hiin  and  had  he  the  roi)e  round  his  neck  when  he  came  on  the 
scaffold,  or  was  it  put  on  by  Jack  ivetch  afterwards]  and  had  Lord 

W taken  a  window,  and  which  was  he?     I  may  mention  the 

noble  Manpiis's  name,  as  he  was  not  at  the  exhibition.     A  pseudo 

W was  pointed  out  in  an  opposite  window,  towards  whom  all 

the  people  in  our  neighbourliood  looked  eagerly,  and  with  great 
respect  too.  Tlie  mob  seemed  to  have  no  sort  of  ill-will  ag-.nn.'^t 
him,  but  sympathy  and  admiration.  This  nolde  lord's  jjcrsonal 
courage  and  strength  have  won  the  plebs  over  to  him.  Perhai)s  his 
exploits  against  ])olicemeu  have  occasioned  some  of  this  popularity  ; 
for  the  mob  hate  them,  as  children  the  school nuuster. 

Throughout  the  whole  four  hours,  however,  the  mob  was  extra- 
ordinarily gentle  and  good-humoured.     At  first  we  had  leisure  to 


GOING    TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED  639 

talk  to  the  people  about  us ;  and  I  recommend  X 's  brother 

senators  of  both  sides  of  the  House  to  see  more  of  this  same  people 
and  to  appreciate  them  better.  Honourable  Members  are  battling 
and  struggling  in  the  House ;  shouting,  yelling,  crowing,  hear-hear- 
ing,  pooh-poohing,  making  speeches  of  three  columns,  and  gaining 
"great  Conservative  triumphs,"  or  "signal  successes  of  the  Reform 
cause,"  as  the  case  may  be.  Three  hundred  and  ten  gentlemen  of 
good  fortune,  and  able  for  the  most  part  to  quote  Horace,  declare 
solemnly  that  unless  Sir  Robert  comes  in,  the  nation  is  ruined. 
Three  hundred  and  fifteen  on  the  other  side  swear  by  their  great 
gods  that  the  safety  of  the  empire  depends  upon  Lord  John ;  and 
to  this  end  they  quote  Horace  too.  I  declare  that  I  have  never 
been  in  a  great  London  crowd  without  thinking  of  what  they  call 
the  two  "  great "  parties  in  England  with  wonder.  For  which  of 
the  two  great  leaders  do  these  people  care,  I  pray  you?  When 
Lord  Stanley  withdrew  his  Irish  Bill  the  other  night,  were  they  in 
transports  of  joy,  like  worthy  j)ersons  who  read  the  Globe  and  the 
Chronicle  ?  or  when  he  beat  the  Ministers,  were  they  wild  with 
delight,  like  honest  gentlemen  who  read  the  Post  and  the  Times  ? 
Ask  yonder  ragged  fellow,  who  has  evidently  frequented  debating- 
clubs,  and  speaks  with  good  sense  and  shrewd  goodnature.  He 
cares  no  more  for  Lord  John  than  he  does  for  Sir  Robert ;  and, 
with  due  respect  be  it  said,  would  mind  very  little  if  both  of  them 
were  ushered  out  by  Mr.  Ketch,  and  took  their  i)laces  under  yonder 
black  beam.  What  are  the  two  great  parties  to  him,  and  those 
like  him  1  Sheer  wind,  hollow  humbug,  absurd  claptraps ;  a  silly 
mununery  of  dividing  and  debating,  Avhich  does  not  in  the  least, 
however  it  may  turn,  affect  his  condition.  It  has  been  so  ever 
since  the  hapi)y  days  when  Whigs  and  Tories  began  ;  and  a  j)retty 
l)astime  no  doubt  it  is  for  both.  August  parties,  great  balances  of 
British  freedom  :  are  not  the  two  sides  quite  as  active,  and  eager, 
and  loud,  as  at  their  very  birth,  and  ready  to  fight  for  place  as 
stoutly  as  ever  they  fought  before  1  But  lo  !  in  the  meantime, 
whilst  you  are  jangling  and  brawling  over  the  accounts,  Populus, 
whose  estate  you  have  administered  while  he  was  an  infimt,  and 
could  not  take  care  of  himself — Populus  has  been  growing  and 
growing,  till  he  is  every  bit  as  wise  as  his  guardians.  Talk  to  our 
ragged  friend.  He  is  not  so  polished,  perhaps,  as  a  member  of  the 
"  Oxford  and  Cambridge  Club ; "  he  has  not  been  to  Eton ;  and 
never  read  Horace  in  his  life ;  but  he  can  think  just  as  soundly  as 
the  best  of  you ;  he  can  speak  quite  as  strongly  in  his  own  rough 
way  ;  he  has  been  reading  all  sorts  of  books  of  late  years,  and 
gathered  together  no  little  information.  He  is  as  good  a  man  as 
the  common  run  of  us ;  and  there  are  ten  million  more  men  in  the 


640  GOING    TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED 

country,  as  good  as  he — ten  million,  for  whom  we,  in  our  infinite 
superiority,  are  acting  as  guardians,  and  to  whom,  in  our  bounty, 
we  give — exactly  nothing.  Put  yourself  in  their  position,  worthy 
sir.  You  and  a  hundred  others  find  yourselves  in  some  lone  place, 
where  you  set  up  a  government.  You  take  a  chief,  as  is  natural ; 
iie  is  the  cheapest  order-keeper  in  the  world.  You  establish  half-a- 
dozen  worthies,  whose  families  you  say  shall  have  the  privilege  to 
legislate  for  you  for  ever ;  half-a-dozen  more,  who  shall  be  apjiointed 
by  a  choice  of  thirty  of  the  rest :  and  the  other  sixty,  who  shall 
have  no  choice,  vote,  place,  or  privilege  at  all.  Honouralile  sir, 
suppose  that  you  are  one  of  the  last  sixty :  h(n\-  will  you  feel,  you 
who  have  intelligence,  passions,  honest  pride,  as  well  as  your 
neighbour ;  how  will  you  feel  towards  your  equals,  in  whose  hands 
lie  all  the  power  and  all  the  property  of  the  conmiunity  1  "Would 
you  love  and  honour  them,  tamely  acquiesce  in  their  superiority, 
see  their  privileges,  and  go  yourself  disregarded  without  a  pang? 
you  are  not  a  man  if  you  would.  I  am  not  talking  of  riglit  or 
wrong,  or  debating  (juestions  of  government.  But  ask  my  friend 
there,  with  the  ragged  elbows  and  no  shirt,  what  he  thinks  ]  You 
have  yoiu-  party.  Conservative  or  Whig,  as  it  may  be.  You  believe 
that  an  aristocracy  is  an  institution  necessary,  beautiful,  and 
virtuous.  You  are  a  gentleman,  in  other  words,  and  stick  by 
your  party. 

And  our  friend  with  the  elbows  (the  crowd  is  thickening  hugely 
all  this  time)  sticks  by  his.  Talk  to  him  of  Whig  or  Tory,  he  grins 
at  them  :  of  virtual  representation,  pish  !  He  is  a  democrat,  and 
will  stand  by  his  frienils,  as  you  by  yours  ;  and  they  are  twenty 
millions,  his  friends,  of  whom  a  vast  minurity  now,  a  majority  a  few 
years  hence,  Avill  be  as  good  as  you.  In  the  meantime  we  shall 
continue  electing,  and  d('l)ating,  and  dividing,  antl  having  every  day 
new  triumphs  for  tlu^  glorious  cause  of  Conservatism,  or  the  glorious 

cause  of  Reform,  until 

• 
What  is  the  meaning  of  this  unconscionable  republican  tirade 
— a  2'>ropos  of  a  hanging?  Such  feelings,  I  think,  nmst  come 
across  any  man  in  a  vast  multitude  like  this,  ^^■llat  good  sense 
and  intelligence  Jiave  most  of  the  people  by  whom  you  are  sur- 
rounded;  how  much  sound  humour  does  one  hear  bandied  about 
from  one  to  another !  A  great  nimiber  of  coarse  phrases  are 
used,  that  would  make  ladies  in  drawing-rooms  blush ;  but  the 
morals  of  the  men  are  good  and  hearty.  A  ragamuffin  in  the 
crowd  (a  powdery  baker  in  a  white  sheep's-wool  cap)  uses  some 
indecent  expression  to  a  woman  near:  there  is  an  instant  cry  of 
shame,  which  silences  the  man,  and  a  dozen  people  are  ready  to  give 


GOING    TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED  641 

the  woinaii  protection.  The  crowd  lias  grown  very  dense  by  this 
time,  it  is  about  six  o'clock,  and  there  is  great  heaving,  and  pushing, 
and  swaying  to  and  fro  ;  but  round  the  women  the  men  have  formed 
a  circle,  and  keep  them  as  much  as  possible  out  of  the  rush  and 
trample.  In  one  of  the  houses,  near  us,  a  gallery  has  been  formed 
on  the  roof  Seats  were  here  let,  and  a  number  of  persons  of  various 
degrees  were  occupying  them.  Several  tipsy  dissolute-looking  young 
men,  of  the  Dick  SM-iveller  cast,  were  in  this  gallery.  One  was 
lolling  over  the  sunshiny  tiles,  with  a  fierce  sodden  face,  out  of  which 
came  a  pipe,  and  whiclf  was  shaded  by  long  matted  hair,  and  a  hat 
cocked  very  much  on  one  side.  Tliis  gentleman  was  one  of  a  party 
which  had  evidently  not  been  to  bed  on  Sunday  night,  but  had 
passed  it  in  some  of  these  delectable  night-houses  in  the  neighbour- 
hood of  Covent  Garden.  The  debauch  was  not  over  yet,  and  the 
women  of  the  party  were  giggling,  drinking,  and  romping,  as  is  the 
wont  of  these  delicate  creatures  ;  sprawling  here  and  there,  and 
falling  upon  the  knees  of  one  or  other  of  the  males.  Their  scarves 
were  off  their  shoulders,  and  you  saw  the  sun  shining  down  upon 
the  bare  Avhite  flesh,  and  the  shoulder-points  glittering  like  burning- 
glasses.  The  people  about  us  were  very  indignant  at  some  of  the 
proceedings  of  this  debauched  crew,  iand  at  last  raised  up  such  a 
yell  as  frightened  them  into  shame,  and  they  were  more  orderly  for 
the  remainder  of  the  day.  The  Avindows  of  the  shops  opposite 
began  to  fill  apace,  and  our  before-mentioned  fricml  Avith  ragged 
elbows  pointed  out  a  celebrated  fashionable  character  who  occupied 
one  of  them ;  and,  to  our  surprise,  knew  as  much  about  him  as  the 
Conrt  Joiirtial  or  the  Morning  Fast.     Presently  he  entertained  us 

with  a  long  and  pretty  accurate  account  of  the  history  of  Lady  ■ , 

and  indulged  in  a  judicious  criticism  upon  her  last  work.  I  have 
met  with  many  a  country  gentleman  who  had  not  read  half  as  many 
books  as  this  honest  fellow,  this  shrewd  ^n-o/e Ye/ //-e  in  a  Wack  shirt. 
The  people  about  him  took  up  and  carried  on  the  conversation  very 
knowingly,  and  were  very  little  behind  him  in  point  of  information. 
It  was  just  as  good  a  company  as  one  meets  on  common  occasions. 
I  was  in  a  genteel  crowd  in  one  of  the  galleries  at  the  Queen's 
coronation ;  indeed,  in  point  of  intelligence,  the  democrats  were 
quite  equal  to  the  aristocrats.  How  many  more  such  groups  were 
there  in  this  immense  multitude  of  nearly  forty  thousand,  as  some 
say  ?  How  many  niore  such  throughout  the  country  1  I  never  yet, 
as  I  said  before,  have  been  in  an  English  mob  without  the  same 
feeling  for  the  persons  who  composed  it,  and  without  Avonder  at  the 
vigorous  orderly  good  sense  and  intelligence  of  the  iie<i])le. 

The  character  of  the  crowd  was  as  yet,  however,  quite  festive. 
Jokes  bandying  about  here  and  there,  and  jolly  laughs  breaking  out. 


642  GOING    TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED 

Some  men  were  endeavouring  to  climb  up  a  leaden  pipe  on  one  of 
the  houses.  The  landlord  came  out,  and  endeavoured  with  might 
and  main  to  pull  them  down.  Many  thousand  eye.s  turned  upon 
this  contest  immediately.  All  sorts  of  voices  issued  from  the  crowd, 
and  uttered  choice  expressions  of  slang.  When  one  of  the  men  wa.s 
pulled  down  by  the  leg,  the  waves  of  this  black  mol>ocean  laughed 
innumerably  ;  when  one  fellow  slipped  away,  scrambled  up  the  pipe, 
and  made  good  his  lodgment  on  the  shelf,  we  were  all  made  happy, 
and  encom-aged  him  by  loml  shouts  of  admiration.  What  is  there 
so  particularly  deligiitful  in  the  spectacle  of>a  man  clambering  up  a 
gas-pipe?  Why  were  we  kept  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  in  deep 
interest  gazing  upon  this  remarkable  scene  ?  Indeed  it  is  hard  to 
say  :  a  man  does  not  know  what  a  fool  he  is  luitil  he  tries  ;  or,  at 
least,  what  mean  follies  will  amuse  him.  The  other  day  I  went  to 
Astley's,  and  saw  clown  come  in  with  a  fool's  cap  and  pinafore,  and 
six  small  boys  who  represented  his  schoolfellows.  To  them  enters 
schoolmaster ;  horses  clown,  and  flogs  him  hugely  on  the  bark  jiart 
of  his  pinafore.  I  never  read  anything  in  Swift,  Boz,  Kiibelais, 
Fielding,  Paul  de  Kock,  which  delighted  me  so  much  as  this  sight, 
and  caused  me  to  laugh  so  profoundly.  And  why  ?  What  is  there 
so  ridiculous  in  the  sight  of  one  miserably  rougeii  man  beating 
another  on  the  breech  ?  Tell  us  where  the  fun  lies  in  this  and  the 
before-mentioned  episode  of  the  g;is-pipe  ?  Vast,  indeed,  are  the 
capacities  and  ingenuities  of  the  human  soul  tliat  can  tind,  in  incidents 
so  wonderfully  small,  means  of  contemplation  and  auuisement. 

Really  the  time  passed  away  with  extraordinary  quickness.  A 
thousand  things  of  the  sort  related  here  came  to  amuse  us.  First 
the  workmen  knocking  and  hammering  at  the  scaffold,  mysterious 
clattering  of  blows  was  heard  within  it,  and  a  ladder  painted  black 
was  carried  round,  and  into  the  interior  of  the  edifice  by  a  small 
side  door.  We  all  looked  at  this  little  hvlder  and  at  each  otlier 
— things  began  to  be  very  interesting.  Soon  came  a  squad  ot 
policemen  :  stalwart  rosy-looking  men,  saying  much  for  City  feeding  ; 
well  dressed,  well  limbed,  and  of  admirable  good-liumour.  They 
paced  about  the  open  space  between  the  pri.son  ami  tlie  barriers 
which  kept  in  the  crowd  from  the  scaflbld.  The  front  line,  as  far 
as  I  could  see,  was  chiefly  occupied  l)y  blackguards  and  boys — 
professional  persons,  no  doubt,  who  saluted  the  policemen  on  their 
appearance  with  a  volley  of  jokes  and  ribaldry.  As  far  as  I  could 
judge  from  faces,  there  were  more  blackguards  of  sixteen  and  seven- 
teen than  of  any  maturer  age ;  stunted,  .sallow,  ill-grown  lads,  in 
rugged  fustian,  scowling  about.  There  were  a  considerable  number 
of  girls,  too,  of  the  same  age:  one  that  Cruikshank  and  Boz  might 
have  taken  as  a  studv  for  Nancv.     The  girl  was  a  young  thief's 


GOING    TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED  643 

mistress  evidently;  if  attacked,  ready  to  reply  without  a  particle 
of  modesty  ;  could  give  as  good  ribaldry  as  she  got ;  made  no  secret 
(and  there  were  several  inquiries)  as  to  her  profession  and  means  of 
livelihood.  But  with  all  thisj  there  was  something  good  about  the 
girl ;  a  sort  of  devil-may-care  candour  and  simi^licity  that  one  could 
not  fail  to  see.  Her  answers  to  some  of  the  coarse  questions  j)ut  to 
lier,  were  very  ready  and  good-humoured.  She  had  a  friend  with 
her  of  the  same  age  and  class,  of  whom  she  seemed  to  be  very  fond, 
and  who  looked  up  to  her  for  protection.  Both  of  these  women 
had  beautiful  eyes.  Devil-may-care 's  were  extraordinarily  bright 
and  blue,  an  admirably  fair  complexion,  and  a  large  red  mouth  full 
of  white  teeth.  An  reste,  ugly,  stunted,  thick-limbed,  and  by  no 
means  a  beauty.  Her  friend  could  not  be  more  than  fifteen.  They 
were  not  in  rags,  l>ut  had  greasy  cotton  shawls,  and  old  faded 
rag-shop  bonnets.  I  was  curious  to  look  at  them,  having,  in  late 
fashionable  novels,  read  many  accounts  of  such  personages.  Bah  ! 
what  figments  these  novelists  tell  us  !  Boz,  who  knows  life  well, 
knows  that  his  IMiss  Nancy  is  the  most  unreal  fantastical  i)ersonage 
possible ;  no  more  like  a  thief's  mistress  than  one  of  Gesner's 
shepherdesses  resembl(>s  a  real  country  wench.  He  dare  not  tell 
the  truth  concerning  such  young  ladies.  They  have,  no  duubt,  virtues 
like  other  human  creatures ;  nay,  their  position  engenders  virtues 
that  are  not  called  into  exercise  among  other  women.  But  on  these 
an  honest  painter  of  human  nature  has  no  right  to  dwell ;  not  being 
able  to  paint  the  whole  portrait,  he  has  no  right  to  present  one  or 
two  favourable  points  as  characterising  the  whole ;  and  therefore, 
in  fact,  had  better  leave  the  picture  alone  altogether.  The  new 
French  literature  is  essentially  false  and  worthless  from  this  very 
error — the  writers  giving  us  favourable  pictures  of  monsters,  and 
(to  say  nothing  of  decency  or  morality)  pictures  quite  untrue  to 
nature. 

But  yonder,  glittering  through  the  crowd  in  Newgate  Street — 
see,  the  Sherifts'  carriages  are  slowly  making  their  way.  We  have 
been  here  three  hours  !  Is  it  possible  that  they  can  liave  passed  so 
soon  1  Close  to  the  barriers  where  we  are,  the  mob  has  become  so 
dense  that  it  is  with  difficulty  a  man  can  keep  his  feet.  Each 
man,  however,  is  very  careful  in  protecting  the  women,  and  all  are 
full  of  jokes  and  good-humour.  The  windows  of  the  shops  ojjposite 
are  now  pretty  nearly  filled  by  the  persons  who  hired  them.  Many 
young  dandies  are  there  with  moustaches  and  cigars ;  some  quiet 
fat  family-parties,  of  simple  honest  tradesmen  and  their  wives,  as 
Ave  fancy,  wlio  are  looking  on  with  the  greatest  imaginable  calmness, 

and  sii)ping  their  tea.     Yonder  is  the  sham  Lord  W ,  who  is 

flinging  various  articles  among  the  crowd  ;  one  of  his  companions,. 


644  GOING    TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED 

a  tall,  burly  man,  with  large  moustaches,  has  provided  himself  with 
a  squirt,  and  is  aspersing  the  mob  with  brandy-and-water.  Honest 
gentleman  !  high-bred  aristocrat !  genuine  lover  of  humour  and  wit : 
I  would  walk  some  miles  so  see  thee  on  the  treadmill,  thee  and  thy 
Mohawk  crew ! 

We  tried  to  get  up  a  hiss  against  these  ruffians,  but  only  had  a 
trifling  success ;  the  crowd  did  not  seem  to  think  their  offence  very 
heinous;  and  our  friend,  the  philosopher  in  the  ragged  elbows,  wli(« 
had  remained  near  us  all  the  time,  was  not  inspired  with  any  such 
savage  disgust  at  the  proceedings  of  certain  notorious  young  gentle- 
men, a.s  I  nuist  confess  tills  my  own  particular  lK»som.  He  only 
said,  "  So-and-so  is  a  lord,  and  they'll  let  him  off,"  and  then  dis- 
coursed about  Lord  Ferrers  being  hanged.  The  jihiliisophcr  knew 
the  liistory  pretty  well,  and  so  did  most  of  the  little  knot  of  jtersons 
about  him,  and  it  must  be  a  gratifying  thing  for  young  gentlemen 
to  find  that  their  actions  are  made  tiie  subject  of  this  kind  of 
conversation. 

Scarcely  a  word  had  been  said  about  C'ourvoisier  all  this  time. 
We  were  all,  as  far  as  I  could  judge,  in  just  such  a  frame  of  mind 
as  men  are  in  when  they  are  scjueezing  at  the  pit-diK»r  of  a  i>lay,  or 
pushing  for  a  review  or  a  Lord  Mayor's  show.  We  :usked  most  of 
the  men  who  were  near  us,  whether  they  had  seen  many  executions  ? 
most  of  them  had,  the  ]»hiloso|)her  esj»ecially  ;  wiiether  the  sight  of 
them  did  any  good?  "For  the  matter  of  that,  no  ;  peojde  did  not 
care  about  them  at  all  ;  nobody  ever  thought  of  it  after  a  bit."  A 
countryman,  who  had  left  his  drove  in  Smithfield,  sjud  the  same 
thing ;  he  had  seen  a  man  hange<l  at  York,  and  sjHjke  of  the  cere- 
mony with  ])erfect  good  sense,  and  in  a  ipiiet  sag-acious  way. 

J.   S ,  the  famous  wit,  now  dead,   had,  I  recollect,  a  good 

story  upon  the  subject  of  executing,  and  of  the  terror  which  the 
punishment  ins])ires.  After  Tliistlewood  and  his  conijianious  were 
hanged,  their  heads  Avere  taken  off,  according  to  the  sentence,  and 
the  executioner,  as  he  severed  each,  held  it  up  to  the  crowd,  in  the 
proper  orthodox  way,  saying,  "  Here  is  the  head  of  a  traitor  !  "  At 
the  siglit  of  the  first  ghastly  head  the  people  were  struck  with  terror, 
and  a  general  expression  of  disgust  and  fear  broke  from  them.  The 
second  head  was  looked  at  also  with  nuich  interest,  but  the  excite- 
ment regarding  the  third  head  diminished.  When  the  executioner 
had  come  to  the  last  of  the  heads,  he  lifted  it  up,  but,  by  some 
clumsiness,  allowed  it  to  drop.  At  this  the  <tow(1  yelled  out,  ''Ah, 
Bntter-fingers  !  " — the  excitement  had  pjjssed  entirely  away.  The 
])unishment  had  grown  to  be  a  joke — Butter-fingers  was  the  word— 
a  pretty  commentary,  indeed,  ui)on  the  august  nature  of  public 
executions,  and  the  awful  majesty  of  the  law. 


GOING    TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED  645 

It  was  past  seven  now  ;  the  quarters  rang  and  passed  away ;  the 
crowd  began  to  grow  very  eager  and  more  quiet,  and  we  turned 
back  every  now  and  then  and  looked  at  St.  Sepidchre's  clock.  Half- 
an-hour,  twenty-five  minutes.  What  is  he  doing  now  ?  He  has  his 
irons  off  by  this  time.  A  quarter :  he's  in  the  press-room  now,  no 
doubt.  Now  at  last  we  had  come  to  think  about  the  man  we  were 
going  to  see  hanged.  How  slowly  the  clock  crept  over  the  last 
quarter !  Those'  who  were  able  to  turn  round  and  see  (for  the 
crowd  was  now  extraordinarily  dense)  chronicled  the  time,  eight 
minutes,  five  minutes ;  at  last — ding,  dong,  dong,  dong  !— the  bell 
is  tolling  the  chimes  of  eight. 

Between  the  writing  of  this  line  and  the  last,  the  pen  has  been 
put  down,  as  the  reader  may  suppose,  and  the  person  who  is  ad- 
dressing him  has  gone  through  a  pause  of  no  very  pleasant  thoughts 
and  recollections.  The  whole  of  the  sickening,  ghastly,  wicked  scene 
passes  before  the  eyes  again ;  and,  indeed,  it  is  an  awful  one  to  see, 
and  very  hard  and  painful  to  describe. 

As  the  clock  began  to  strike,  an  immense  sway  and  movement 
swept  over  the  whole  of  that  vast  dense  crowd.  They  were  all  un- 
covered directly,  and  a  great  murnuir  arose,  more  awful,  bizarre, 
antl  indescribable  than  any  sound  I  had  ever  before  heard.  Women 
and  children  began  to  shriek  horribly.  I  don't  know  whether  it 
was  the  bell  I  heard ;  but  a  dreadful  quick  feverish  kind  of  jangling 
noise  mingled  with  the  noise  of  the  people,  and  lasted  for  about  two 
minutes.  The  scaffold  stood  before  us,  tenantless  and  black ;  the 
black  chain  was  hanging  down  ready  from  the  beam.  Nobody  came. 
"  He  has  been  respited,"  some  one  said  ;  another  said,  "  He  has  killed 
himself  in  prison." 

Just  then,  from  under  the  black  prison-door,  a  pale  quiet  head 
peered  out.  It  was  shockingly  bright  and  distinct ;  it  rose  up 
directly,  and  a  man  in  black  appeared  on  the  scaffold,  and  was 
silently  followed  by  about  four  more  dark  figures.  The  first  was 
a  tall  grave  man  :  we  all  knew  who  the  second  man  was.  "  That's 
he — that's  he  !  "  you  heard  the  people  say,  as  the  devoted  man 
came  up. 

I  have  seen  a  cast  of  the  head  since,  but,  indeed,  should  never 
have  known  it.  Cour^'oisier  bore  his  punishment  like  a  man,  and 
walked  very  firmly.  He  was  dressed  in  a  new  black  siut,  as  it 
seemed :  his  shirt  was  open.  His  arms  were  tied  in  front  of  him. 
He  opened  his  hands  in  a  helpless  kind  of  way,  and  clasped  them 
once  or  twice  together.  He  turned  his  head  here  and  there,  and 
looked  about  him  for  an  instant  with  a  wild  imploring  look.  His 
mouth  was  contracted  into  a  sort  of  pitiful  smile.     He  went  and 


646  GOI^'G    TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED 

placed  himself  at  onre  under  the  beam,  with  hit^  face  towards  St. 
Sepulchre's.  The  tall  grave  man  in  black  twisted  him  round  swiftly 
in  the  other  direction,  and,  drawing  from  his  pocket  a  nightcap, 
pulled  it  tight  over  the  patient's  head  and  face.  I  am  not  ashamed 
to  say  that  I  could  look  no  more,  but  shut  my  eyes  as  the  last 
di-eadful  act  was  going  on  which  sent  this  wretched  guilty  soul  into 
the  presence  of  God. 

If  a  public  execution  is  beneficial — and  beneficial  it  is,  no  doubt, 
or  else  the  wise  laws  would  not  encourage  forty  thousand  people 
to  witness  it — the  next  useful  thing  must  be  a  full  description 
of  such  a  ceremony,  and  all  its  entourarjes,  and  to  this  end  the 
above  pages  are  offered  to  the  reader.  How  does  an  individual  man 
feel  under  it  ?  In  what  way  does  he  observe  it, — how  does  lie  view 
all  the  plienomena  connected  with  it, — what  induces  him.  in  tlie  first 
instance,  to  go  and  see  it, — and  how  is  he  moved  by  it  alterwards  ? 
The  writer  has  discarded  the  magazine  "We"  altogether,  and  spoken 
face  to  face  with  tiie  reader,  recoiding  every  one  of  the  impressions 
felt  by  him  as  honestly  as  he  coidd. 

I  must  confess,  then  (for  "  I "  is  the  shortest  word,  and  tlie  best 
in  this  case),  that  the  sight  has  left  on  my  mind  an  extraordinary 
feeling  of  terror  and  shame.  It  seems  to  me  that  I  have  been 
abetting  an  act  of  frightful  wickedness  and  violence,  i>erforined  by  a 
set  of  men  against  one  of  their  fellows  ;  and  I  j)ray  God  that  it  may 
soon  be  out  of  the  power  of  any  man  in  England  to  witnes.s  such 
a  hideous  and  degrading  sight.  Forty  th(tu!<and  iicrsons  (say  the 
Sheriffs),  of  all  ranks  and  degrees, — mechanics,  gentlemen,  jtick- 
pockets,  members  of  both  Houses  of  Parliament,  street-walkers, 
iK^vspaper-writers,  gather  together  before  Newgate  at  a  very  early 
hour ;  the  most  part  of  them  give  up  their  natural  (]uiet  night's 
rest,  in  oi-der  to  partake  of  this  hideous  debauchery,  which  is  more 
exciting  tlian  sleep,  or  than  wine,  or  the  last  new  ballet,  or  aiiy 
otlier  amusement  they  can  have.  Pickixicket  and  Peer,  each  is 
tickled  by  the  sight  alike,  and  has  that  hidden  lust  after  blood 
which  influences  our  race.  Government,  a  Christian  Govenunent, 
gives  us  a  feast  every  now  and  then  :  it  agrees — tliat  is  to  say,  a 
majority  in  the  two  Houses  agrees — that  for  certain  crimes  it  is 
necessary  that  a  man  should  be  hanged  by  the  neck.  Govern- 
ment commits  the  criminal's  soul  to  the  mercv  of  God,  stating  that 
here  on  earth  he  is  to  look  for  no  mercy  ;  keeps  him  for  a  fortnight 
to  prepare,  provides  him  with  a  clergyman  to  settle  his  religious 
matters  (if  there  be  time  enough,  but  Government  can't  wait) ;  and 
on  a  Monday  morning,  the  bell  tolling,  the  clergyman  reading  out 
the  word  of  God,  "  I  am  the  resurrection  and  the  life,"  "  The  Lord 


GOING    TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED  647 

giveth,  and  the  Lord  taketh  away," — on  a  Monday  morning,  at  eight 
o'clock,  this  man  is  placed  under  a  beam,  with  a  rope  connecting  it 
and  him  ;  a  ]ilank  disaiiiiears  from  imder  liim,  and  those  who  have 
paid  for  good  places  may  see  the  liands  of  the  (.Juvernment  agent. 
Jack  Ketch,  coming  up  from  his  black  hole,  and  seizing  the  prisoner's 
legs,  and  pulling  them,  until  he  is  quite  dead — strangled. , 

Many  persons,  and  well-informed  newspapers,  say  that  it  is 
mawkish  sentiment  to  talk  in  this  way,  morbid  humanity,  chea]) 
philanthropy,  that  any  man  can  get  up  and  jireach  about.  Tliere 
is  the  Observer,  for  instance,  a  ])aper  cons]iicuous  for  the  tremendous 
sarcasm  which  distinguishes  its  articles,  and  which  falls  cruelly  foul 
of  the  Morning  Herald.  "  Courvoisier  is  dead,"  says  the  Observer  : 
"  he  died  as  he  had  lived — a  villain ;  a  lie  was  in  his  mouth. 
Peace  be  to  his  ashes.  We  war  not  with  the  dead."  What  a 
magnanimous  Observer !  From  this.  Observer  turns  to  the 
Herald,  and  says,  "Fiat  justitia,  ruat  ccelum."  So  nuich  for  the 
Herald. 

We  quote  from  memory,  and  tlie  (juotation  I'rom  the  Observer 
possibly  is, — "  De  mortuis  nil  nisi  l)oiuHn:"  or,  "  Omne  ignotum 
pro  magnifico  ; "  or,  "  Sero  iiuii(|uam  est  ad  Imhios  iiKircsvia;"  or, 
"  Ingenuas  didicisse  fidelitcr  artes  emollit  mores  ncc  sinit  esse 
feros  : "  all  of  which  pithy  Koman  apophthegms  woulil  ai)j)ly  just 
as  well. 

"  Peace  be  to  his  ashes.  He  died  a  villain."  This  is  both 
benevolence  and  reason.  Did  he  die  a  villain  %  The  Observer  does 
not  want  to  destroy  him  body  and  soul,  evidently,  from  that  j)ious 
wish  that  his  ashes  should  be  at  peace.  Is  the  next  Monday  but 
one  after  the  sentence  the  time  necessary  for  a  villain  to  repent  in  1 
May  a  man  not  require  more  leisure — a  week  more — six  months 
more — before  he  has  been  able  to  make  his  repentance  sure  b(^fore 
Him  who  died  f(n"  us  all? — for  all,  be  it  remembered, — not  alone  for 
the  judge  and  juiy,  or  for  the  sheriffs,  or  for  the  executioner  who  is 
pulling  down  the  legs  of  the  i)risoner, — Imt  for  him  too,  nnu'derer 
and  criminal  as  he  is,  whom  we  are  killing  for  his  crime.  Do  we 
want  to  kill  him  body  and  soul  1  Heaven  forbid  !  My  Lord  in  the 
black  cap  specially  prays  that  Heaven  may  have  mercy  on  him  ;  but 
he  must  be  ready  by  Monday  morning. 

Look  at  the  documents  which  came  from  the  prison  of  this 
unhap])y  Courvoisier  during  the  few  days  which  passed  betM-een  his 
trial  and  execution.  Were  ever  letters  more  painful  to  read  ?  At 
first,  his  statements  are  false,  contradictory,  lying.  He  has  not 
repented  then.  His  last  declaration  seems  to  be  honest,  as  far  as 
the  relation  of  the  crime  goes.  But  read  the  rest  of  his  statement, 
the  account  of  his  personal  history,  and  the  crimes  M'hich  he  com- 


648  GOING    TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED 

mitted  in  his  young  days, — then  "  ho-w  the  evil  thought  came  to 
him  to  put  his  hand  to  the  work," — it  is  evidently  the  writing  of  a 
mad,  distracted  man.  The  horrid  gallows  is  perpetually  before  him  ; 
he  is  wild  witli  dread  and  remorse.  Clergnnen  are  with  him  cease- 
lessly ;  religious  tracts  are  forced  into  his  hands ;  night  and  day 
they  ply  him  with  the  heinousness  of  his  crime,  and  exhortations  to 
repentancfe.  Read  througli  that  last  paper  of  his  ;  by  Heaven,  it  is 
l)itiful  to  read  it.  See  the  Scripture  phrases  brought  in  now  and 
anon;  the  peculiar  terms  of  tract-plu-aseology  (I  do  not  wish  to 
speak  of  these  often  meritorious  publications  with  disrespect) ;  one 
knows  too  well  how  such  language  is  learned, — imitated  from  the 
priest  at  the  bedside,  eagerly  seized  and  appropriated,  and  conibunded 
by  the  poor  prisoner. 

But  murder  is  such  a  monstrous  crime  (this  is  the  great  argu- 
ment),— when  a  man  has  killed  another  it  is  natural  tliat  he  should 
be  killed.  Away  with  your  foolish  sentimentalists  who  say  no — it 
is  natural.  That  is  the  word,  and  a  fine  philosophical  opinion  it  is 
— philosophical  and  Christian.  Kill  a  man,  and  you  must  be  killed 
in  turn  :  that  is  the  unavoidable  sequitur.  You  may  talk  to  a  man 
for  a  year  upon  the  subject,  and  he  will  always  reply  to  you,  "It  is 
natural,  and  therefore  it  must  be  done.     Blood  demanils  blood." 

Does  it  ?  The  system  of  compensations  might  be  carried  on  ad 
infinituvi, — an  eye  for  an  eye,  a  tooth  for  a  tooth,  as  by  the  old 
Mosaic  law.  But  (putting  the  fact  out  of  the  question,  that  we 
have  had  this  statute  repealed  by  the  Highest  Authority),  why, 
because  you  lose  your  eye,  is  that  of  vour  opponent  to  be  extracted 
likewise  1  Where  is  the  reason  tor  the  practice  ?  And  yet  it  is 
just  as  natural  as  the  death  dictum,  founded  precisely  upon  the 
same  show  of  sense.  Knowing,  however,  that  revenge  is  not  only 
evil,  but  useless,  we  have  given  it  up  on  all  minor  points.  Only  to 
the  last  we  stick  firm,  contrary  though  it  be  to  reason  and  to 
Christian  law. 

There  is  some  talk,  too,  of  the  terror  which  the  sight  of  this 
spectacle  inspires,  and  of  this  we  have  endeavoured  to  give  as  good 
a  notion  as  we  can  in  the  above  pages.  I  fully  confess  that  I  came 
away  down  Snow  Hill  that  morning  with  a  disgust  for  murder,  but 
it  was  for  the  murder  I  saw  done.  As  we  made  our  way  through 
the  immense  croAvd,  we  came  upon  two  little  girls  of  eleven  and 
twelve  years :  one  of  them  was  crving  bitteriv,  and  begged,  for 
Heaven  s  sake,  that  some  one  would  lead  her  from  that  horrid  ]ilace. 
This  was  done,  and  the  children  were  carried  into  a  place  of  safety. 
We  asked  the  elder  giri — and  a  very  pretty  one— what  brought  her 
into  such  a  neighbourhood  ?  Tlie  child  grinned  knowingly,  and  said, 
"We've  koom  to  see  the  mon  hanged  !  "     Tender  law,  that  brings 


GOING    TO    SEE    A    MAN    HANGED  649 

out  babes  upon  such  errands,  and  provides  them  with  such  gratifying 
moral  spectacles ! 

This  is  the  20th  of  July,  and  I  may  be  permitted  for  my  part 
to  declare  that,  for .  the  last  foutteen  days,  so  salutary  has  the 
impression  of  the  butchery  been  upon  me,  I  have  had  the  man's 
face  continually  before  my  eyes ;  that  I  can  see  Mr.  Ketch  at  this 
moment,  with  an  easy  air,  taking  the  rope  from  his  pocket ;  that  I 
feel  myself  ashamed  and  degraded  at  the  brutal  curiosity  which 
took  me  to  that  brutal  sight ;  and  that  I  pray  to  Almi,<rhty  God 
to  cause  this  disgraceful  sin  to  pass  from  among  us,  and  to  cleanse 
our  land  of  blood. 


THE  END 


■i 


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